THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


FROM  THE  LIBRARY  OF 
MRS.  S.  WESTRAY  BATTLE 

PRESENTED 

BY  HER  DAUGHTER 

MRS.  ROBERT  S.  PICKENS 

B 

M84-8m 


UNIVERSITY  OF  NIC.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


10001091480 


This  book  is  due  at  the  WALTER  R.  DAVIS  LIBRARY  on 
the  last  date  stamped  under  "Date  Due."  If  not  on  hold,  it  may 
be  renewed  by  bringing  it  to  the  library. 


"JJJJJ"!                       RETURNED 

D^||                       RETURNED 

rrn  °  ft 

9fl(Y7 

rLLi  <o  o 

LUUI 

Form  No  513, 

Rev  ->fS^ 

Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/recollectionsofrmorg 


RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  REBEL  REEFER 


JAMES    MORRIS    MORGAN 


TO 

MY  BELOVED  WIFE 
FRANCES  F.   MORGAN 

BUT   FOR   WHOSE   DEVOTION  AND   TENDER   NURSING   OF  ME 

THROUGH  WEARY  YEARS  OF  ILL  HEALTH  THESE 

"RECOLLECTIONS" 

WOULD  NEVER  HAVE  BEEN 

WRITTEN 


582375 


PREFACE 

Said  a  writer  in  Blackwood's  Magazine  many  years  ago : 
"None  but  kings  and  egoists  are  fit  to  indite  the  record  of 
their  lives.  The  king  knows  himself  to  be  the  first  of  his 
world,  and  what  to  the  king  is  knowledge  is  to  the  egoist 
a  confident  belief.  Pride,  then,  personal  and  overwhelming, 
is  essential  to  the  perfect  autobiography;  and  if  the  pride 
be  simple  enough,  we  may  perhaps  dispense  with  the  other 
great  quality  —  self-knowledge.  For  though  it  obscure 
reality,  pride  can  create  a  phantom  at  once  improving  and 
consistent.  Nequidquam  sapit  qui  sibi  non  sapit,  wrote 
Cicero." 

The  following  account  of  some  of  my  experiences  in  life 
will  have  at  least  the  merit  of  simplicity,  and,  the  story  being 
about  myself,  I  ask  indulgence  for  its  unavoidable  egotism. 

It  has  been  said  that  "adventures  come  only  to  him  who 
seeks  them,"  but  I  am  doubtful  of  the  correctness  of  this 
adage,  for  I  can  truthfully  say  that  I  had  as  little  to  do 
with  the  shaping  of  my  course  in  life  as  has  an  empty  bottle 
thrown  overboard  in  mid-ocean.  I  spent  the  most  impor- 
tant years  of  a  boy's  life,  those  between  fifteen  and  nine- 
teen, so  far  as  education  and  the  formation  of  character 
are  concerned,  tied  to  a  sword  and  in  the  midst  of  a  most 
cruel  war,  and  when  peace  came  I  was  wafted  hither  and 
thither,  the  sport  of  the  fickle  winds  of  varying  fortune;  and, 
having  "sailed  'neath  alien  skies  and  trod  the  desert  path," 
naturally  I  imagine  that  I  have  met  with  some  adventures 
out  of  the  usual  run  of  the  average  schoolboy's  experiences, 
and  if  I  have  written  some  of  them  down,  it  has  been  with 
the  laudable  desire  of  amusing  other  people  rather  than 
personal  vanity  or  desire  for  notoriety. 

Its  novelty  is  another  excuse  for  this  volume.  The 
shelves  of  libraries  are  filled  with  "Recollections,"  "Remi- 


Vlll 


PREFACE 


niscences,"  and  "Services  Afloat,"  written  by  admirals,  but 
who  ever  before  saw  the  memoirs  of  a  "Reefer,"  unless  it 
was  those  of  "Mr.  Midshipman  Easy,"  and  he,  being  a 
mythical  person,  of  course  did  not  write  them  himself.  I 
make  no  apology  for  its  many  faults  and  shortcomings, 
for  were  it  told  in  a  scholarly  manner  and  in  the  rounded 
periods  and  faultless  language  of  a  Macaulay,  it  would  not 
be  the  story  of  a  midshipman  who  had  few  opportunities  of 
acquiring  an  education,  and  neglected  the  few  which  came 
in  his  way,  as  the  story  will  make  apparent  to  the  dullest 
landlubber. 

If  I  have  omitted  to  mention  one  or  two  affairs  of  honor 
in  which  I  took  part,  either  as  principal  or  second,  I  trust 
that  my  not  doing  so  will  not  be  regarded  as  evidence  that 
I  have  any  doubt  as  to  the  correctness  of  my  attitude  on 
those  occasions.  I  do  not  mention  them  because  I  have 
passed  the  threescore  years  and  ten  and  do  not  wish  to 
offend  the  sensibilities  of  the  living,  or  to  reawaken  old 
feuds  in  a  State  where  one  of  my  daughters  and  my  grand- 
children live. 

If  I  mention  an  unfortunate  shooting  affair  which  oc- 
curred in  Columbia,  South  Carolina,  it  is  because  the  bloody 
tragedy  became  a  matter  of  record  in  the  courts.  Other 
personal  encounters  are  recounted  because  they  had  an 
amusing  side  to  them. 

J.  M.  M. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  I 

Childhood  —  "Billy  Bowlegs"  —  The  Choctaws  —  Blowing  up" and 
burning  of  the  steamboat  Princess  —  Charloe  and  Katish  — 
Throwing  the  lasso — Buck-jumpers I 

CHAPTER   II 

Unlucky  in  love  —  The  home  of  a  Louisiana  aristocrat  —  Hospitality 
and  lengthy  visits  —  The  sugar-house  —  Appointed  a  midship- 
man —  The  only  Southern  man  who  could  not  whip  ten  Yankees 
—  Religious  mania  —  Fortress  Monroe  —  Mexican  pulque  .      .II 

CHAPTER   III 

Annapolis  —  "Old  Ironsides"  —  The  habit  of  command  —  Show 
remarkable  leniency  toward  the  midshipman's  hereditary  ene- 
mies, the  commandant  and  lieutenants  —  The  "Brood  of  the 
Constitution"  —  "Bill  Pip,"  our  first  hero  —  Other  heroes  — 
Skating  on  thin  ice  —  The  bilged  —  Secession 21 

CHAPTER  IV 

Out  of  the  United  States  Navy  —  Complete  disguise  —  Captain 
Maynadier,  U.S.A.  —  Passing  through  the  Union  and  Confed- 
erate lines  —  Senator  Wigfall  and  President  Andrew  Johnson  — 
Montgomery,  Alabama  —  President  Jefferson  Davis  and  Judah 
P.  Benjamin  —  Tender  services  and  sword  to  the  Confederacy  — 
Declined  with  thanks  —  The  "Marseillaise" 34 

CHAPTER  V 

Arrive  in  New  Orleans  —  Brother  Harry  killed  next  morning  in  a  duel 

—  Home-coming  in  Baton  Rouge 41 

CHAPTER  VI 

Volunteers  —  Lonely  —  Captain  Booth,  late  U.S.A.,  finds  use  for  me 

—  Pensacola  —  "Give  them  a  little  more  grape,  Captain  Bragg"    44 

CHAPTER  VII 

The  sloop-of-war  McRae  arrives  at  Baton  Rouge  —  Receive  warrant 
as  a  midshipman  and  ordered  to  the  McRae  —  Fail  to  get  through 
the  blockade  —  Attack  on  Federal  fleet  at  the  Head  of  the  Passes 


x  Contents 

—  Heroes  until  a  newspaper  "Marian"  discovered  that  we  ought 
to  have  towed  the  whole  Federal  fleet  up  to  New  Orleans  in 
triumph 51 

CHAPTER  VIII 

The  McRae  made  flagship  of  the  Mississippi  flotilla  —  Commodore 
Hollins  —  Appointed  aide-de-camp  to  the  commodore  —  Island 
No.  10  —  New  Madrid  —  The  Swamp  Fox  of  Missouri  — 
Masked  batteries  —  Wanted  to  challenge  a  major  —  U.S.  iron- 
clads pass  Island  No.  10  —  Stung  —  New  Madrid  and  Island  No. 
10  evacuated  —  "Savez"  Read  administers  a  lesson  in  discipline 
to  the  volunteers  —  Gunboats  pretty  badly  cut  up  by  shore  bat- 
teries —  Go  back  to  New  Orleans  —  Fort  Jackson  under  heavy 
bombardment  from  Porter's  mortar  fleet  —  Commodore  Hollins 
relieved  from  his  command  —  Farragut  passes  the  forts  —  Death 
of  Captain  Huger  and  sinking  of  the  McRae 60 

CHAPTER  IX 

Farragut's  fleet  at  New  Orleans  —  Mob  threatens  to  kill  his  officers 
who  demand  the  surrender  of  the  city  —  Farragut  threatens  to 
destroy  the  city  if  a  hair  of  their  heads  is  hurt  —  Pierre  Soule's 
hypnotic  fore-finger  saves  the  critical  situation  —  I  take  to  the 
swamp  —  The  " Irreconcilable  Home  Guard"  —  Reach  General 
Lovell's  camp  at  Amite  —  Reach  Norfolk  in  time  for  the  evacua- 
tion —  Richmond  —  The  battle  between  the  U.S.  Ironclads 
Galena,  Monitor,  and  Naugatuck  and  Drewry's  Bluff  batteries  — 
Battle  of  Seven  Pines  (Fair  Oaks)  —  Seven  Days'  Battle     .       .     75 

CHAPTER  X 

Charleston  —  Commodore  Ingraham  —  C.S.  Ironclad  Chicora  — 
The  looting  of  my  home  in  Baton  Rouge  —  George  Hollins  dies  of 
yellow  fever  —  The  Honorable  George  A.  Trenholm  —  Naval 
officers  "never  unbutton  their  coats"  —  Ordered  abroad      .       .     89 

CHAPTER  XI 

Run  through  the  U.S.  blockading  fleet  —  Out  of  our  reckoning  —  Ber- 
muda —  Blockade-runners  throw  money  into  the  street  —  Com- 
modore Wilkes's  famous  ship  San  Jacinto  gives  us  a  scare  —  Hali- 
fax —  Sail  for  England  in  company  with  some  of  Her  Majesty's 
Life  Guardsmen 98 

CHAPTER  XII 

Liverpool  —  London  —  Visit  "  Hill  Morton,"  near  Rugby  —  Ordered 
to  the  C.S.S.  Alexandra  —  Snubbed  —  Ordered  to  Paris  —  Or- 
dered to  London  —  Birthday  properly  celebrated  —  Damn  the 


Contents  xi 

Marquis  of  Westminster  and  lose  my  only  friend  —  Meet  several 
Mr.  Grigsons 106 

CHAPTER  XIII 

White  Haven  —  The  active  tug  Alar  —  Meet  the  Japan,  which  turns 
out  to  be  the  Confederate  cruiser  Georgia  —  Ushant  Island  — 
Break  neutrality  laws,  and  away  to  sea  —  Hoist  Confederate 
flag,  but  don't  use  it  much  —  Capture  our  first  prize,  the  clipper 
ship  Dictator  —  Treatment  of  prisoners  —  Cape  Verde  Islands 

—  Narrow  escape  from  U.S.S.  Mohican  —  Crew  of  Dictator  ship 
with  us  —  Chasing  ships 113 

CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Doldrums  —  Water-spouts  —  Bahia  —  Meet  the  Alabama  — 
Changing  of  the  Confederate  flag  —  Corsairos  —  Brazilian  ball 

—  Midshipman  Anderson  makes  a  pillow  out  of  Captain  Semmes 

—  U.S.S.  Niagara  and  Mohican  on  our  trail  —  "  Does  he  want 
his  pretty  paint  spoiled?"  —  Refused  permission  to  depart  after 

4  P.M.  —  Brazilian  battery  fires  one  shot  as  we  pass  out  .       .       .124 

CHAPTER  XV 

"Tempest  in  a  teapot"  —  Capture  clipper  ship  George  Griswold  of 
New  York  —  Burn  bark  Good  Hope  of  Boston  —  Funeral  at  sea 

—  Bark  Seaver  goes  to  assistance  of  the  Good  Hope  and  is  cap- 
tured —  Transfer  prisoners  to  the  Seaver 133 

CHAPTER  XVI 

Barren  island  of  Trinidad  —  The  natural  monument  —  Surf  five  hun- 
dred feet  high  —  Battle  in  the  air  between  frigate  bird  and  sailor 
lad  —  Capture  of  splendid  ship  Constitution  loaded  with  coal  and 
missionaries  —  Georgia,  by  mistake,  fires  into  the  Constitution 

—  Capture  of  ship  City  of  Bath  —  Despoiled  of  $16,000  of  our 
hard-earned  wealth  by  trick  of  skipper's  wife  —  Learn  of  the 
death  of  "Stonewall"  Jackson  —  The  Cape  of  Good  Hope  .       .  140 

CHAPTER  XVII 

Simon's  Town  —  The  Alabama  had  just  sailed  from  the  port  —  Two 
of  the  Georgia's  engineers,  the  boatswain,  gunner,  and  several 
seamen  get  "cold  feet"  and  leave  us  —  Our  first  lieutenant,  Mr. 
Chapman,  ordered  to  Europe  —  Visit  the  city  of  Cape  Town  — 
Skippers  of  burned  ships  not  friendly  and  disposed  to  start  a 
rough-house  —  H.  M.  troopship  Himalaya  —  "Dixie"  —  Excit- 
ing experience  with  Malay  fishermen  —  Albatross  and  Cape 
pigeons  —  Meet  the  tea  fleet  —  Also  the  U.S.S.  Vanderbilt  — 
Myriads  of  fish  follow  the  Georgia  making  the  ocean  at  night 
appear  to  be  in  flames 147 


xii  Contents 

CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  prize  Bold  Hunter,  abandoned  and  on  fire,  runs  down  and  seri- 
ously damages  the  Georgia  —  Mirage  at  night  —  Peak  of  Tene- 
riffe  —  Santa  Cruz  —  Battle  with  a  Frenchman  —  Rescue  French 
brig  Diligente  —  Captain  Maury  ill  —  Sailors  get  at  the  spirit- 
room  —  Mutiny 156 

CHAPTER  XIX 

Cherbourg  —  Letters  from  home  tell  of  the  deaths  of  my  two  brothers, 
captains  in  Stonewall  Jackson's  corps  —  French  fleet  arrives  to 
keep  us  in  order  —  Great  storm  and  loss  of  flagship's  launch  and 
crew  —  Impressive  military  pageant  at  funeral  —  Captain  Maury 
relieved  from  the  command  of  the  Georgia.  The  C.S.S.  Rappa- 
hannock —  Kearsarge  and  Tuscarora  waiting  for  us  outside  .       .165 

CHAPTER  XX 

Leave  Cherbourg  —  Storm  off  Cape  Trafalgar  —  Coast  of  Morocco  — 
Anchor  in  the  open  sea  near  the  Great  Desert  —  Caravans  — 
Moors  bring  fish  —  Ancient  Moor  swims  to  the  ship  —  We  return 
visits  and  are  kicked  into  the  sea  —  We  bombard  the  troglodytes 

—  Give  up  hope  that  the  Rappahannock  will  meet  us  —  Weigh 
anchor  and  have  a  narrow  escape  from  shipwreck  and  falling  into 
the  hands  of  the  Moors 172 

CHAPTER  XXI 

Bordeaux  —  U.S.S.  Niagara  and  Sacramento  wait  outside  for  us  — 
Two  fine  sloops-of-war  intended  for  the  Confederacy  lay  near,  but 
beyond  our  reach  —  Escape  from  the  United  States  men-of-war 

—  Liverpool  —  A  hero  at  last  —  Georgia  put  out  of  commission 

—  Georgia  captured  by  U.S.S.  Niagara  —  Last  of  the  Georgia  — 
Men-of-war,  privateers,  and  pirates 180 

CHAPTER  XXII 

Paris  —  Alabama  sunk  by  Kearsarge  —  Havre  —  Southampton  — 
Ordered  to  return  to  the  Confederacy  —  Halifax  —  Sail  for  Ber- 
muda and  passengers  mistake  us  for  pirates  —  St.  George's, 
Bermuda  —  Take  passage  in  the  blockade-runner  Lillian  — 
Chased  by  U.S.S.  Shenandoah  and  have  narrow  escape  running 
through  blockading  fleet  off  Wilmington 187 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

Shells  dropping  in  the  grass-grown  streets  of  Charleston,  South  Caro- 
lina —  Mr.  Trenholm  is  Secretary  of  the  Confederate  Treasury  — 
Columbia  —  Mr.  Trenholm's  beautiful  villa  —  Go  to  Richmond 
and  ask  the  millionaire  Secretary  for  the  hand  of  his  daughter  — 
Mrs.  Trenholm  calls  on  Mrs.  (?)  Stephens 197 


Contents  xiii 

CHAPTER  XXIV 

"Pride  goeth  before  a  fall"  —  Humiliated  and  sent  to  school  —  A 
realistic  war  college  —  Call  a  commander  "  My  man,"  and  order 
him  forward  —  Assault  on  Fort  Harrison  —  General  Lee  appears 
on  the  battle-field  —  Repulsed  —  I  prove  to  be  something  of  a 
sprinter 204 

CHAPTER  XXV 

I  finally  become  a  passed  midshipman  —  Battery  Semmes  —  The 
Dutch  Gap  Canal  —  Mortar  pits  and  rifle  pits  —  The  lookout 
tower  —  Trading  with  the  enemy  —  Pickett's  famous  division 
charges  a  rabbit  —  A  shell  from  a  monitor  destroys  my  log  hut  — 
Good  marksmanship  —  An  unexploded  shell  —  General  Lee  in- 
spects battery  —  Costly  result  of  order  to  "give  him  a  shot  in 
fifteen  minutes"  —  Demonstration  against  City  Point  —  Confed- 
erate ironclads  badly  hammered  —  "Savez"  Read  cuts  boom 
across  the  river  —  A  thunderous  night 212 

CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  Confederate  "White  House"  —  President  Davis  gives  an  im- 
promptu lecture  on  bridle  bits  —  Letter  of  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis 
denying  truth  of  anecdote  relating  to  President  Buchanan,  Mrs. 
Joseph  E.  Johnston,  and  herself  —  The  Southern  soldiers  and 
girls  dance,  flirt,  and  marry, oblivious  of  the  signs  that  the  "de- 
bacle" draws  near 220 

CHAPTER  XXVII 

Ordered  to  accompany  Mrs.  Davis  and  party  south  —  No  Pullman 
cars  in  those  days  — ■  President  Davis  bids  his  family  good-bye  — 
Insolent  deserters  insult  Mrs.  Davis  at  Charlotte,  North  Caro- 
lina —  A  Hebrew  gentleman  gives  her  shelter  —  Midshipmen 
guarding  the  Confederacy's  gold  escort  her  to  Abbeville,  South 
Carolina  —  President  Davis  and  his  Cabinet  at  Abbeville   .       .  228 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 

President  Davis  departs  from  Abbeville  —  I  carry  communication  to 
General  Fry  at  Augusta,  Georgia  —  United  States  troops  occupy 
Abbeville.  We  bury  the  silver  chests  —  Paroled  at  Washington, 
Georgia  —  Accompany  Mr.  Trenholm  to  Columbia,  where  he 
buys  a  home  —  Mr.  Wagner,  of  Fraser,  Trenholm  &  Co.,  pays  to 
avoid  arrest  in  Charleston,  and  Mr.  Trenholm  is  arrested  in  Co- 
lumbia —  Placed  in  the  common  jail  —  Mrs.  King  hides  the  gold 
under  the  Federal  commander's  nose  —  General  Gillmore,  U.S.A., 
treats  Mr.  Trenholm  magnanimously 238 


xiv  Contents 

CHAPTER  XXIX 

Mr.  Trenholm  and  others  of  Mr.  Davis's  Cabinet  imprisoned  in  Fort 
Pulaski  —  I  make  a  hurried  trip  to  New  Orleans  to  engage  coun- 
sel —  I  get  married  —  Study  (?)  law  —  General  Daniel  E.  Sickles 
orders  Mr.  Trenholm's  home  returned  to  him  —  I  become  a 
widower  —  Yellow  fever  saves  me  from  being  on  board  of  the 
fated  Evening  Star 253 

CHAPTER  XXX 

Try  cotton-planting  with  the  usual  sailor's  success  —  Better  success 
following  the  hounds  —  Charles  Astor  Bristed ;  "  Man  is  a  gregari- 
ous animal"  —  Drayton  Hall  —  Discovery  of  the  phosphate 
rocks  —  Visit  Philadelphia  —  Go  on  the  New  York  Yacht  Club 
cruise  —  General  McClellan  —  General  W.  S.  Hancock  views 
the  yacht  race 259 

CHAPTER  XXXI 

Receive  a  commission  as  captain  in  the  Egyptian  Army  —  Hurried 
trip  to  Egypt  with  nineteen  other  ex-Union  and  Confederate 
officers  —  Alexandria  —  Call  an  Oriental  bluff  —  Cause  small 
panic  in  hotel  by  opening  windows  during  the  "kempsine"  —  In 
uniform  —  Presented  to  the  Khedive  —  American  officers  in 
Khedive's  army  —  Letters  of  President  Davis  and  General  R.  E. 
Lee 266 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

The  Egyptian  Army  —  Eunuchs  important  beings  —  Polyglots  — 
Anecdote  (from  court  gossip)  about  the  two  Schnieders  —  Ad- 
venturesses —  The  permanent  Secretary  —  The  bounding  horse 
Napoleon  —  Did  n't  cut  His  Highness  —  Napoleon  gets  me  in  and 
out  of  trouble  about  being  too  fresh  with  a  Princess,  a  flower,  and 
a  dainty  lace  handkerchief  —  The  Khedive  orders  a  wedding  to 
amuse  the  Empress  Eugenie  —  Divorce  —  Harems  (pronounced 
kareems) 274 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 

Egyptian  Army  splendidly  drilled  in  manual  of  arms  and  tactics  — 
American  officers  dine  with  the  Effendina  —  Sham  battle  — 
Napoleon  disgraces  me  —  Feast  of  the  Dosse  —  Marriage  of  the 
Nile  —  Offend  Arabi  Bey  and  am  sent  to  Rosetta  —  Sailing  on 
the  great  canal  —  Rosetta  —  A  deserted  palace  —  See  ghosts 
which  turn  out  to  be  lepers  —  Accept  hospitality  of  an  Armenian 
—  Commander  of  garrison  not  overjoyed  to  see  me  .       .       .       .  287 


Contents  xv 

chapter  xxxiv 

Khedive  always  just  to  the  American  officers,  but  it  was  difficult  to 
obtain  an  audience  with  him  —  Go  to  Alexandria  with  General 
Loring  and  occupy  a  royal  palace  —  Difficult  to  get  paid  —  Row 
with  customs  officials  —  An  Egyptian  military  banquet  —  I  have 
not  rank  enough  to  entitle  me  to  a  seat  at  the  table  —  Cabal 
formed  against  General  Stone  —  I  am  sent  to  the  staff  of  Ratib 
Pasha,  commander-in-chief  of  the  Egyptian  Army  ....  296 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

Ratib  Pasha  —  Attempted  suicide  gained  him  promotion  —  Ratib  is 
presented  to  a  pretty  soubrette,  and  calls  on  her  accompanied 
by  his  staff  —  The  commander-in-chief  is  peeved  —  The  Abys- 
sinian campaign  —  Ratib  Pasha  the  only  court  favorite  faithful 
to  the  Khedive  Ismail  in  the  hour  of  humiliation  and  sorrow  — 
The  Duke  of  Hamilton,  General  Mott,  and  the  duel  that  did 
not  come  off 301 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 

The  Franco-Prussian  War  —  Apply  for  leave  to  go  to  France  — 

Wrecked  —  Paris  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  —  A  generous  Jew  .       .  310 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Return  to  America  —  Tired  of  the  Egyptian  service,  but  the  Khedive 
declines  to  allow  me  to  resign  —  Grants  me  a  furlough  with  per- 
mission to  go  home  —  Determine  again  to  become  a  farmer  — 
"Woe  to  them  that  go  down  to  Egypt  for  help;  and  stay  on 
horses"  —  Columbia,  South  Carolina  —  Become  lord  and  master 
of  the  great  Hampton  plantation  —  A  bachelor's  menage  and 
appetite  —  A  lively  fox  hunt  in  which  the  wily  Carpetbag  Gov- 
ernment is  run  to  cover  —  Matches  cost  only  five  cents  a  box  — 
Trial  Justice  Sam  Thompson 315 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

The  name  Galapagos  inspires  the  preacher  —  I  take  Northern  friends 
to  a  prayer  meeting  —  "Getting  glory"  —  A  chicken  thief  and  a 
bulldog  get  hitched  together  —  Death  of  Hector  as  a  consequence 
—  The  preponderance  of  the  evidence  —  Ball  toilets  in  the  middle 
of  the  day  and  champagne  orgies  on  the  main  street  —  The 
comptroller  of  the  State  opens  fire  on  the  house  of  Colonel  Black, 
U.S.A.,  the  commandant  —  Moses,  promised  immunity,  gives 
testimony  in  the  fraudulent  bonds  case  —  Questions  of  personal 
privilege  —  Nancy  Eliot 323 


xvi  Contents 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Corrupt  judiciary  —  Melton  voted  for  Seymour  and  Blair,  but  bet  his 
money  on  Grant  —  Feud  between  Attorney-General  Melton  and 
Colonel  Montgomery  in  which  Mr.  Caldwell  was  killed  and  I  was 
wounded 332 

CHAPTER  XL 

Cotton-picking  by  moonlight  —  Swindled  by  a  carpetbagger  out  of 
my  hay  crop  —  Legislative  debates  —  Confiscation  by  taxation 

—  Poverty  no  bar  to  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage  —  Hound 
dog  gives  the  alarm  and  saves  my  family  from  death  when  house 
catches  fire  —  Pay  taxes  in  a  novel  way,  and  sell  Hampton  plan- 
tation —  Move  to  Charleston 340 

CHAPTER  XLI 

Friendly  shooting-match  —  Dancing  the  "Too  Ral  Loo"  —  Negro 
mobs  —  Dawson  wounded  —  U.S.  Regulars  attacked  with 
stones  —  General  Hunt,  U.S.A.,  takes  command  of  the  rifle  clubs 

—  This  action  costs  General  Hunt  his  promotion  on  retirement  — 
Feud  between  Governor  Chamberlain  and  Captain  Bowen,  the 
sheriff  of  Charleston  County 348 

CHAPTER  XLII 

Captain  Dawson,  editor  of  the  "Charleston  News  and  Courier,"  de- 
nounces Bowen  as  the  assassin  of  Colonel  White  —  Bowen  brings 
libel  suit  —  Eli  Grimes,  the  actual  murderer,  located  —  I  go  to 
Leesville  and  bring  Grimes  to  Charleston  to  testify  —  Grimes 
attempts  to  kill  himself  —  Grimes's  sensational  testimony  — 
Mistrial 353 

CHAPTER  XLIII 

Exciting  political  campaign  of  1875  —  I  return  to  Columbia  —  The 
dual  legislature  —  Hamilton,  negro  member  of  the  legislature, 
makes  a  Democratic  speech  —  The  military  evict  the  Democrats 
from  the  capitol 360 

CHAPTER  XLIV 

General  M.  C.  Butler  elected  U.S.  Senator  by  Democratic  legislature 

—  Carpetbag  conspiracy  against  Butler  proves  a  fiasco  —  Don 
Cameron,  to  the  amazement  of  the  country,  forces  the  seating  of 
Butler  in  the  U.S.  Senate  —  Senator  Blaine  traps  Senator  Vance 
who  was  fond  of  practical  jokes  —  Astonishing  clash  between 
Senators  Bayard  and  Blaine  —  Visit  of  a  Senate  Committee  to 
the  Indian  Territory  —  Attempt  to  give  a  scolding  to  Chief 


Contents'  xvii 

Joseph,  of  the  Nez  Percys  Indians,  and  the  result  —  The  moun- 
tain would  not  come  to  Mohammed,  so  Mohammed  had  to  go  to 
the  mountain  —  Joseph  turns  the  tables  on  the  Senators  and  ad- 
ministers a  stinging  tongue-lashing  —  We  leave  Joseph,  but  do 
not  feel  very  proud  of  ourselves 370 

CHAPTER  XLV 

"  Fighting  Bob  "  Evans  gets  me  employment  with  Governor  Alexander 
R.  Shepherd  and  I  go  to  Mexico  —  My  brother,  P.  H.  Morgan, 
is  appointed  U.S.  Minister  to  Mexico  —  San  Antonio,  Texas, 
where  we  buy  a  herd  of  unbroken  mules  —  The  Canon  de  las 
Iglesias  —  Dangers  of  the  mountain  trail  —  Batopilas  —  The 
San  Miguel  silver  mine  —  Governor  Shepherd  as  an  executive  — 
A  law  unto  himself,  he  wins  the  favor  of  Porfirio  Diaz  —  In 
Bonanza  —  My  conducta  carries  a  hundred  and  forty  thousand 
dollars  in  silver  bars  to  Chihuahua  —  Instinct  of  the  mountain 
mule  —  Beware  of  the  polite  Mexican  —  Narrow  escape  from  fall- 
ing into  the  hands  of  Victoria,  the  Apache  Chief  —  The  mountain 
trail  strewn  with  silver  bars 383 

CHAPTER  XLVI 

Resign  position  as  chief  of  conductas  and  start  for  home  via  Mazatlan 
and  San  Francisco  —  Alamos  —  Witness  marriage  between 
a  Mexican  girl  and  a  German  —  New  York  —  A  dress-suit  my 
chief  asset  —  Return  to  Mexico  and  become  a  civil  engineer  (?)  — 
Primitive  coaching  —  Queretaro  and  its  opal  mines       .       .       .  395 

CHAPTER  XLVII 

Leon,  the  city  whose  sole  industry  is  the  carving  of  leather  and  making 
of  saddles  —  Running  trial  lines  on  the  gallop  —  La  Piedad  — 
Did  n't  flop  quick  enough  and  got  stoned  —  The  brave  peccary 

—  The  strangler  tree  —  The  tree  that  bleeds  blood  —  Come 
upon  a  murdered  man  lying  on  the  road  —  The  volcano  of  Colima 

—  General  Grant  only  likes  rebels  who  fought  —  Mr.  Gilmore 
comes  near  losing  his  life  in  the  Jule  River  —  Return  to  the 
States  to  finance  a  silver  mine 401 

CHAPTER  XLVIII 

Return  to  Tampico  and  get  shipwrecked  on  the  bar  —  A  squaw  man 
who  was  a  quack  doctor  —  Find  a  lake  of  asphalt  and  strike  oil  — 
A  precarious  ferry  —  111  with  fever  and  receive  a  matrimonial 
proposal 410 

CHAPTER  XLIX 

Not  even  any  money  in  oil,  when  I  am  interested  —  President  Gon- 
zalez and  General  Porfirio  Diaz  —  Collapse  of  oil  scheme  —  En- 


xviii  Contents 

counter  General  Charles  P.  Stone  by  accident  and  get  employ- 
ment —  The  Statue  of  Liberty  —  Swept  to  sea  by  harbor  ice  — 
Meet  an  old  foe  —  Laying  a  corner-stone  —  General  Winfield  S. 
Hancock  —  Lecture  my  superior  officer  —  I  am  appointed  Con- 
sul-General to  Australasia         .       .418 

CHAPTER  L 

My  appointment  as  consul-general  arouses  great  indignation  among 
Southern  office-seekers  —  Mr.  Cleveland  said  he  never  would 
have  appointed  me  had  he  known  I  was  a  "pirate"  —  Torpedo, 
in  the  shape  of  a  pamphlet,  comes  near  blowing  up  my  prospects 

—  Mr.  Secretary  Bayard  gets  angry  —  Mr.  Cleveland  brushes 
the  matter  aside  and  wishes  me  bon  voyage  —  Get  married  and 
start  for  San  Francisco  —  Mr.  Bayard  recalls  me  to  Washington 
by  telegram  —  I  sail  for  Australia  —  Seventh-Day  Adventists 
indignant  when  Captain  skips  Saturday  at  the  one  hundred  and 
eightieth  meridian 424 

CHAPTER  LI 

Sydney's  beautiful  harbor  —  The  authorities  compliment  me  by  giv- 
ing me  a  private  compartment  for  the  journey  to  Melbourne  and 
I  am  surprised  to  find  myself  a  prisoner  therein  —  Beautiful 
Melbourne  and  its  suburbs  —  Sir  Henry  Loch,  the  Governor  of 
Victoria  —  My  wife  suddenly  ennobled  —  Singular  coincidence 
of  meeting  a  gentleman  who  had  been  a  passenger  on  a  ship  we 
had  stopped  on  the  high  seas  twenty-two  years  previously  — 
Wonderful  Australian  horsemanship 431 

CHAPTER  LI  I 

Impecunious  globe-trotters  —  Consular  courts  —  Become  skipper  of 
a  water-logged  bark  against  my  wishes  —  A  captain  claims  a 
dollar  a  day  for  tuition  in  the  culinary  art  —  For  obeying  my 
instructions  an  Australian  court  mulcts  me  for  five  hundred  dol- 
lars, holding  that  despite  my  exequatur  I  am  only  a  commercial 
agent  —  Grocer's  assistant  gets  quite  a  large  fortune  —  Many 
supposed  dead  men  live  in  the  South  Sea  Islands  —  "Black- 
birders" 438 

CHAPTER  LIII 

Vast  estates  —  Australian  hospitality  —  Kangaroo  hunting  —  The 
dingo  —  Rabbits  in  myriads  —  Aborigines  —  Marriage  customs 

—  Black  trackers  —  Black  swans  —  No  songbirds,  but  many 
curious  birds  —  The  "laughing  jackass"  always  gets  a  laugh 
when  he  tells  a  funny  story  —  The  "Ornithoryncus"     .       .       .  445 


Contents  xix 

CHAPTER  LIV 

Sir  Henry  Loch  gives  a  fancy-dress  ball  in  honor  of  the  Queen's  Jubilee 

—  The  Melbourne  Exhibition  —  Return  to  America  via  Suez 
Canal  —  Visit  to  the  "Isle  of  France"  (Mauritius)  —  Paul  and 
Virginia  must  have  sat  down  hard  —  Return  to  Melbourne  — 
Secretary  of  State  appoints  a  naval  officer  to  take  charge  of  ap- 
propriation for  American  exhibit  —  First  World's  Fair  Commis- 
sion ever  to  turn  back  a  balance  into  the  Treasury  —  Receive  a 
medal  —  Leave  Australia  —  Authorize  captain  of  the  Mariposa 

to  return  to  Sydney  —  Samoans  as  swimmers  —  Resign  .       .       .  453 

CHAPTER  LV 

"  Cedarcroft "  —  Death  of  Captain  Dawson  —  Ten  years  on  a  farm  — 

Vagaries  of  the  genus  horse  —  Australian  fox  terriers    .       .       .  459 

CHAPTER  LVI 

Visit  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis  in  New  York  —  Accompany  Mrs.  Davis  to 
Richmond  —  Unveiling  of  the  memorial  window  to  Mr.  Davis  — 
Make  the  oration  at  the  unveiling  of  the  statuette  to  Mr.  Davis 
in  the  Confederate  Museum  —  The  old  Confederate  "White 
House"  —  Present  my  sword  and  letters  from  President  Davis 
and  General  Lee  to  the  Museum  —  Letter  from  Mrs.  Davis  on 
the  subject  of  Prince  Polignac's  canard  about  his  mission  to 
France  for  the  purpose  of  selling  the  State  of  Louisiana       .       .  463 

CHAPTER  LVI  I 

The  hero  of  Manila  Bay  —  Distinguished  dead  who  were  my  friends 

—  Some  learned  societies  which  have  honored  me  —  "Peace  at 
any  price" 468 

CHAPTER  LVI  1 1 

The  "birth  of  a  nation" — Assistant  manager  of  the  Washington 
branch  of  the  International  Banking  Corporation  —  Extracts 
from  a  diary  kept  on  a  journey  to  Panama  —  Meet  my  old  class- 
mates Admirals  Coghlan  and  Glass,  of  the  "  Brood  of  the  Consti- 
tution"—  My  old  hulk  is  laid  up  in  ordinary  waiting  to  be 
scrapped 474 

INDEX 483 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


James  Morris  Morgan Frontispiece 

Midshipman   James   Morris   Morgan,  C.S.N.,  at   the  Age  of 

Fifteen 52 

U.S.  Sloop-of-War  Richmond,  of  Farragut's  Fleet      ...    56 

From  a  drawing  made  at  the  Philadelphia  Navy  Yard  in  1872 

C.S.  Ram  Manassas,  which  rammed  the  Richmond       ...    56 

From  a  drawing  by  R.  G.  Skerrett 

C.S.S.   McRae,  Commodore    Hollins's    Flagship,    coaling    at 

Baton  Rouge,  1861 60 

U.S.  Ironclad  Galena 82 

From  a  drawing  by  R.  G.  Skerrett  after  photographs  and  official  plans 

C.S.    Ironclad    Chicora,    on   which   the   Author   served   at 
Charleston 82 

From  a  drawing  by  R.  G.  Skerrett 

Hon.  George  A.  Trenholm,  Secretary  of  the  C.S.  Treasury     92 

From  a  painting 

Captain  W.  L.  Maury,  commanding  the  Georgia    .      .      .      .114 

From  a  contemporary  photograph  taken  at  Cherbourg 

C.S.  Cruiser  Georgia 118 

From  a  photograph  taken  at  Cherbourg 

Midshipman  Morgan  while  attached  to  the  Cruiser  Georgia, 

1863 126 

Major  W.  P.  A.  Campbell,  formerly  of  the  C.S.  Navy    .      .170 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  Cairo  in  1870 

C.S.S.  Patrick  Henry,  Confederate  Naval  School  Ship,  on 
the  James  River  below  Richmond,  1864 204 

From  a  painting  by  Clary-Ray 

Colonel  Beverly  Kennon,  Coast  Defense,  Egyptian  Army  .  208 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  Alexandria 

Lieutenant-Colonel  Morgan,  of  the  Egyptian  Army        .      .  266 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  Cairo  in  1870 

Napoleon,  the  Bounding  Horse 278 

General  W.  W.  Loring         298 

From  a  photograph  taken  in  Cairo 

Dr.  M.  Amador,  First  President  of  the  Republic  of  Panama, 
1903 476 


RECOLLECTIONS 
OF  A  REBEL  REEFER 


CHAPTER  I 

Childhood  —  "Billy  Bowlegs"  —  The  Choctaws  —  Blowing  up  and  burning 
of  the  steamboat  Princess  —  Charloe  and  Katish  —  Throwing  the  lasso  — 
Buck- jumpers. 

Born  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  Louisiana,  in  1845, — 
the  youngest  of  nine  children,  —  my  parents  indulged  me 
as  only  the  youngest  of  a  large  family  or  an  only  child  is 
spoiled,  and  they  were  very  ably  assisted  by  my  elder 
brothers  and  sisters.  My  old  black  nurse,  Katish,  played 
no  unimportant  role  in  the  coddling  process. 

According  to  the  family  legends  I  commenced  my  ad- 
ventures at  an  early  age.  When  I  could  barely  toddle  I 
strayed  away  from  the  house  and  was  found  stranded  in 
a  gutter  and  brought  home  in  a  most  sorry  plight.  In  this 
day,  when  it  is  considered  the  proper  thing  to  boast  of  one's 
lowly  beginnings,  that  story  ought  at  least  to  have  secured 
me  a  seat  in  the  halls  of  Congress,  but  it  did  n't.  Another 
thriller  told  me  of  the  adventures  of  my  babyhood  was 
that  once,  when  I  was  playing  near  a  pond  at  Pascagoula, 
a  huge  alligator  was  seen  slowly  creeping  toward  me  when 
my  French  governess  rushed  to  the  rescue  and  bravely 
bore  me  out  of  danger.  She  was  ever  afterwards  regarded 
as  a  heroine. 

When  I  was  five  years  of  age,  my  father,  Judge  Thomas 
Gibbes  Morgan,  with  his  family  returned  to  Baton  Rouge, 
where  he  had  lived  prior  to  his  having  been  appointed  Col- 
lector of  the  Port  of  New  Orleans.  Baton  Rouge  at  that 
time  was  a  pretty  little  town  of  some  three  thousand  in- 


2     Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

habitants.  It  is  situated  on  the  first  high  ground  as  one 
ascends  the  river  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  The  bluff  is  at 
least  thirty  feet  high  and  before  I  commenced  my  travels 
I  thought  that  it  must  be  the  tallest  hill  in  the  world. 

At  that  time  there  was  a  United  States  Arsenal  and  quite 
a  large  garrison  there,  mostly  composed  of  heroes  who  had 
two  or  three  years  before  that  time  conquered  Mexico.  I 
loved  the  soldiers,  and  one  of  the  officers,  Lieutenant  Drum, 
afterwards  adjutant-general  of  the  United  States  Army  for 
many  years,  loved  my  eldest  sister,  so  we  got  on  famously 
together. 

General  Zachary  Taylor  had  a  cottage  in  the  garrison 
grounds  and  his  famous  old  war-horse  "Whitey"  had  the 
freedom  of  the  beautiful  grassy  lawns,  and  the  greatest  de- 
light of  my  life  was  to  be  placed  on  the  gentle  old  charger's 
back,  without  saddle  or  bridle,  and  sit  there  while  "Old 
Whitey"  grazed,  not  paying  as  much  attention  to  me  as 
he  would  have  bestowed  upon  a  fly.  From  that  time  until 
I  was  fourteen  my  life  was  principally  spent  on  horseback. 
I  mean  by  horseback,  the  backs  of  those  savage  little  ponies 
we  called  "mustangs"  which  existed  in  herds  in  a  wild 
state  in  that  part  of  the  country  in  those  days.  They  be- 
longed to  the  man  who  could  first  lasso  and  put  his  brand 
upon  them.  These  ponies  were  past-masters  in  the  art  of 
bucking,  and  from  their  backs  I  have  probably  hit  the 
ground  in  a  greater  variety  of  ways  than  any  other  man 
now  living,  but  as  my  steeds  had  never  been  put  through  a 
course  of  the  haut  ecole  before  I  mounted  them,  my  horse- 
manship should  not  be  judged  by  the  number  of  croppers 
I  have  come  in  my  time. 

There  are  certain  events  in  a  child's  life  which  make  an 
impression  that  time  itself  cannot  efface.  One  of  these  is 
so  vivid  that,  after  a  lapse  of  sixty-five  years,  I  can  shut 
my  eyes  and  again  see  a  crowd  of  men  and  women  standing 
on  the  river-bank  wildly  gesticulating  and  vowing  that 
they  would  be  revenged  upon  a  band  of  Seminole  Indians 


Burning  of  the  Steamboat  Princess         3 

who  were  being  transported  from  Florida  to  the  Indian 
Territory.  Their  chief,  the  famously  cruel  "Billy  Bow- 
legs," was  with  them,  and  so  violent  were  the  people  on 
shore  in  their  threats  that  the  captain  of  the  steamboat 
did  not  dare  to  approach  the  shore.  He  was  wise,  as  many 
in  that  excitable  crowd,  myself  among  the  number,  had 
had  relatives  cruelly  tortured  and  murdered  by  these  same 
Indians  in  the  Seminole  War.  My  uncle,  Bedford  Morgan, 
was  one  of  their  victims,  having  been  scalped  and  his  body 
so  horribly  mutilated  that  it  was  only  recognized  by  the 
fact  that  his  faithful  dog  stood  guard  over  it. 

In  those  days  there  were  still  Indians  in  Louisiana.  A 
band  of  "Choctaws"  lived  on  the  Amite  River,  a  few  miles 
back  of  Baton  Rouge,  who  used  to  bring  into  the  town,  for 
sale  or  barter,  their  bead-  and  basket-work  and  blow-guns 
made  out  of  cane  poles.  The  arrows  of  these  blow-guns 
were  made  of  split  cane  with  a  tuft  of  thistle  at  one  end  and 
we  boys  delighted  in  the  ownership  of  these  long  and  ap- 
parently harmless  weapons.  I  say  apparently  harmless, 
but  in  the  hands  of  an  Indian  they  were  very  deadly  to 
birds  and  squirrels.  The  Indians  were  wonderful  shots  with 
them  and  at  twenty  or  thirty  paces  could  hit  a  small  silver 
five-cent  piece;  always  provided  they  were  promised  the 
coin  if  they  hit  it. 

I  have  a  vivid  recollection  of  a  tragedy  which  happened 
in  those  days  which  often  troubles  the  dreams  of  my  old 
age.  I  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  blowing-up  and  destruc- 
tion by  fire  of  the  Princess,  the  finest  steamboat  on  the 
Mississippi  in  those  days.  The  night  before  the  disaster 
my  father  and  mother  had  kissed  me  good-bye  and  gone 
on  board  of  an  old  dismantled  steamboat,  which  answered 
the  purposes  of  a  wharf,  to  await  the  arrival  of  the  Prin- 
cess, as  they  intended  to  take  passage  on  her  for  New  Or- 
leans. Early  the  next  morning  I  went  down  to  the  river 
to  find  out  if  they  had  yet  left.  The  Princess  had  just 
drawn  out  into  the  stream,  and  as  I  stood  watching  her  as 


4     Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

she  glided  down  the  river  a  great  column  of  white  smoke 
suddenly  went  up  from  her  and  she  burst  into  flames.  She 
was  loaded  with  cotton.  As  though  by  magic  the  inhabi- 
tants of  the  town  gathered  at  the  riverside  and  in  the  crowd 
I  spied  my  brother-in-law,  Charles  La  Noue,  in  a  buggy. 
He  called  to  me;  I  jumped  in  alongside  of  him  and  we 
dashed  down  the  river  road  in  the  direction  of  the  burning 
boat.  The  road  was  rough  and  the  horse  was  fast.  The  high 
levee  on  our  right  shut  out  the  view  of  the  river,  so  we  could 
only  see  the  great  column  of  smoke.  On  our  left  were  the 
endless  fields  of  sugar  cane,  with  an  occasional  glimpse  of 
a  planter's  house  set  in  a  grove  of  pecan  trees. 

At  last,  in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  we  arrived  at  the 
plantation  of  Mr.  Conrad.  "Brother  Charlie"  jumped  out 
of  the  vehicle  and  ran  toward  the  house  while  I  made  the 
horse  fast  to  a  tree.  I  then  mounted  the  levee  from  where 
I  could  see  floating  cotton  bales  with  people  on  them ;  men 
in  skiffs,  from  both  sides  of  the  river,  were  rescuing  the 
poor  terror-stricken  creatures  and  bringing  them  ashore. 
From  the  levee  I  rushed  into  the  park  in  front  of  Mr. 
Conrad's  residence  and  there  saw  a  sight  which  can  never 
be  effaced  from  my  memory.  Mr.  Conrad  had  had  sheets 
laid  on  the  ground  amidst  the  trees  and  barrels  of  flour 
were  broken  open  and  the  contents  poured  over  the  sheets. 
As  fast  as  the  burned  and  scalded  people  were  pulled  out 
of  the  river  they  were  seized  by  the  slaves  and,  while 
screaming  and  shrieking  with  pain  and  fright,  they  were 
forcibly  thrown  down  on  the  sheets  and  rolled  in  the  flour. 
The  clothes  had  been  burned  off  of  many  of  them.  Some, 
in  their  agony,  could  not  lie  still,  and,  with  the  white  sheets 
wrapped  round  them,  looking  like  ghosts,  they  danced  a 
weird  hornpipe  while  filling  the  air  with  their  screams. 
Terrified  by  the  awful  and  uncanny  scene,  I  hid  behind  a 
huge  tree  so  that  I  should  not  see  it,  but  no  tree  could  pre- 
vent me  from  hearing  those  awful  cries  and  curses  which 
echo  in  my  ears  even  now. 


Katish  5 

Suddenly,  to  my  horror,  one  of  the  white  specters, 
wrapped  in  a  sheet,  his  disfigured  face  plastered  over  with 
flour,  staggered  toward  my  hiding-place,  and  before  I  could 
run  away  from  the  hideous  object  it  extended  its  arms  to- 
ward me  and  quietly  said,  ''Don't  be  afraid,  Jimmie.  It 
is  me,  Mr.  Cheatham.  I  am  dying  —  hold  my  hand!" 
And  he  sank  upon  the  turf  beside  me.  Although  dread- 
fully frightened,  I  managed  between  sobs  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion uppermost  in  my  mind:  "Can  you  tell  me  where  I 
can  find  my  father  and  mother?"  The  ghostlike  man  only 
replied  with  a  cry  which  seemed  to  wrench  his  soul  from 
his  body.  He  shivered  for  an  instant,  and  then  lay  still. 
A  slave  passing  by  pointed  to  the  body  and  casually  re- 
marked, "He  done  dead." 

A  Creole  negro  woman  then  came  running  toward  me; 
she  was  stout  and  almost  out  of  breath,  but  was  still  able 
to  shout  out  to  me  in  her  native  patois :  "Mo  cherche  pour 
toi  partout;  M'sieur  La  Noue  dit  que  to  vinit  toute  suite!" 
When  I  found  "  Brother  Charlie,"  he  was  ministering  to  the 
maimed,  but  found  time  to  tell  me  that  my  parents  had 
taken  another  boat  which  had  stopped  at  Baton  Rouge  in 
the  night  and  thereby  had  saved  their  lives.  I  returned 
at  once  to  my  home,  where  I  was  comforted  in  the  strong 
arms  of  Katish,  my  old  black  nurse. 

Katish  was  a  character  whose  fame  was  known  far  and 
wide  through  the  little  town.  She  was  a  strapping  big 
woman  who  weighed  over  two  hundred  pounds,  but  as 
active  as  a  young  girl.  She  had  been  my  mother's  maid 
before  my  mother  was  married  and  afterwards  had  nursed 
and  bossed  all  of  her  children.  I  being  the  youngest  was, 
of  course,  her  special  pet.  She  ran  the  establishment  to 
suit  my  father's  and  mother's  comfort  and  convenience  and 
ruled  the  children  and  the  slaves  to  suit  herself ;  but  we  all 
loved  her,  and  no  other  hand  could  soothe  a  fevered  child's 
pillow  as  could  the  black  hand  of  Katish.  When  we  were 
ill  she  never  seemed  to  sleep,  but  sat  by  our  bedsides  until 


6     Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

we  were  well.  The  nastiest  medicine  (and  there  were  nasty 
medicines  in  those  days)  lost  much  of  its  terrors  when 
administered  by  Katish. 

Charloe,  Katish's  husband,  was  a  dried-up,  weazened 
little  man  of  a  shiny  black  complexion;  he  always  insisted 
that  his  stature  had  been  stunted  when  he  was  a  jockey 
by  the  horse-trainers  putting  him  on  too  light  a  diet  and 
burying  him  up  to  his  neck  in  the  manure-box  for  too  long 
a  time  when  it  was  necessary  to  reduce  his  weight  suffi- 
ciently to  ride  two-year-old  colts.  He  had  been  a  cele- 
brated jockey  in  his  day  when  he  rode  for  his  then  owner, 
Mr.  Duplantier,  a  planter  who  amused  himself  with  a  race- 
horse stable.  Charloe  was  my  hero,  he  was  a  perfect  black 
"Admirable  Crichton."  It  is  true  that  he  could  neither 
read  nor  write,  nor  did  he  know  a  note  of  music,  but  many 
a  so-called  educated  white  man  envied  him  his  accomplish- 
ments. He  spoke  French,  Spanish,  and  English  fluently, 
and  played  the  violin  like  a  virtuoso.  His  elegant  manners 
were  above  criticism.  He  made  beautiful  rings  and  bangles 
out  of  tortoise-shell  with  only  his  pocket-knife,  a  round 
stick,  and  a  pot  of  hot  water  for  his  tools.  He  was  also  an 
adept  at  making  fancy  ropes  for  bridle  reins  and  girths  out 
of  horsehair. 

In  1846  Charloe  went  to  Mexico  with  Dr.  Harney,  an 
army  surgeon,  and  brother  of  General  Harney,  and  re- 
mained there  until  the  army  came  home.  Of  course  if  he 
had  wanted  his  freedom  he  could  have  remained  in  that 
country  where  some  of  the  highest  aristocrats  have  a  touch 
of  the  tar  brush  in  their  veins. 

Charloe  was  very  much  of  a  gentleman  of  leisure.  He 
paid  his  master  a  certain  sum  of  money  every  month  and 
spent  his  time  riding  around  the  country.  He  was  the  vet- 
erinarian of  the  town  and  was  very  successful  in  curing 
horses  of  all  sorts  of  disease,  and  probably  knew  too  much 
about  spavined  horses  and  how  to  fix  them  up  so  they 
would  be  attractive  to  the  innocent  and  ignorant  would-be 


Charloe  7 

purchaser.  Besides  this  he  made  lots  of  money  training 
horses  for  gentlemen  and  also  devoted  much  of  his  leisure 
to  catching  and  breaking  wild  horses  which  he  sold  for 
good  money  after  he  had  handled  them  for  a  short  time  and 
put  some  style  into  their  gaits.  He  was  a  wonder  with  the 
lasso  and  rarely  if  ever  missed  catching  a  horse,  and  in 
this  sport  he  was  most  ably  assisted  by  his  horse  "Ben," 
who  knew  almost  as  much  as  Charloe  did  about  the  busi- 
ness. 

The  slaves  had  a  means  of  communicating  with  distant 
plantations  which  was  always  a  mystery  to  their  owners. 
During  the  Civil  War  my  mother  and  three  of  my  sisters 
were  refugees  in  a  little  Mississippi  village,  and  were  with- 
out money  and  in  danger  of  starvation,  as  they  could  not 
communicate  with  my  elder  brother  in  New  Orleans  or 
with  friends  in  Baton  Rouge.  But  hostile  armies  and 
picket  lines  were  not  obstacles  of  much  importance  to 
Katish  when  she  wanted  to  get  word  to  Charloe  of  the 
condition  of  the  family  —  Charloe  being  in  Baton  Rouge, 
within  the  Union  lines,  and  more  than  a  hundred  miles 
away.  Charloe  immediately  mounted  his  horse  and  with- 
out much  difficulty  managed  to  pass  through  both  the 
Federal  and  Confederate  lines  and  carried  to  my  mother 
quite  a  large  sum  of  real  money  which  he  gave  to  her,  and 
which  greatly  relieved  the  distress  of  the  family,  especially 
as  my  sister,  Mrs.  La  Noue,  had  a  family  of  little  children 
who  were  crying  for  bread.  It  must  be  remembered  that 
Charloe  was  of  course  a  freedman  as  long  as  he  remained 
within  the  Union  lines,  but  knew  that  he  again  became  a 
slave  when  he  entered  the  territory  held  by  the  Confed- 
erates. 

Until  I  was  thirteen  years  of  age  I  was  the  constant  com- 
panion of  Charloe.  When  I  was  a  baby,  mounted  on  his 
horse,  he  would  carry  me  around  with  him,  and  I  do  not 
remember  the  time  when  I  first  rode  a  horse  by  myself. 
My  father  was  a  lawyer  with  a  very  large  practice,  and  a 


8     Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

very  busy  man;  and  my  mother  was  in  very  delicate  health. 
I  was  a  pupil,  or  supposed  to  be  one,  at  Professor  Magru- 
der's  Academy,  the  best  school  in  Baton  Rouge;  but  I  only 
attended  when  it  suited  my  convenience,  such  as  rainy 
days,  or  when  some  interesting  game  was  going  on  at  the 
school,  or  when  Charloe  was  not  going  after  the  wild 
horses.  Since  those  days  I  have  hunted  the  wily  fox 
with  the  "Pytchley"  in  England,  and  with  Alfred  and 
Burnett  Rhett  and  Frank  Trenholm  and  Colonel  Tom 
Taylor  in  South  Carolina,  but  in  my  opinion  fox-hunting 
is  tame  sport  in  comparison  with  the  chase  after  wild 
horses. 

Under  Charloe's  tuition  I  learned  to  throw  the  lasso,  and 
if  it  was  an  easy  chance  he  always  allowed  me  to  throw 
first;  but  I  had  no  fear  of  the  result,  for  if  I  missed  I  knew 
that  I  would  hear  the  swish  of  Charloe's  rope  which  with 
deadly  accuracy  would  land  its  loop  over  the  head  of  the 
poor  terrified  beast  which  had  never  before  felt  the  power 
of  man.  I  remember  vividly  once,  when  we  had  turned  a 
herd  of  horses  from  a  swamp  for  which  they  were  headed, 
how  they  dashed  into  a  canebrake,  the  cane  poles  being 
from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  high  and  almost  as  close  together 
as  the  fingers  on  one's  hand.  The  wild  horses  smashed  their 
way  through  and  we  followed  closely  at  their  heels  holding 
the  nooses  of  our  lassos  in  one  hand  and  our  reins  in  the 
other  while  our  heads  were  busily  engaged  in  dodging  the 
muscadine  vines  which  hung  in  festoons  from  the  great 
trees  which  grew  among  the  canes.  Suddenly  we  came 
crashing  into  an  old  clearing.  Charloe  was  just  ahead  of 
me  and  this  was  his  opportunity.  Instantly  his  lasso  com- 
menced to  describe  graceful  circles  over  his  head,  and  hav- 
ing selected  his  victim  the  loop  shot  out  of  his  hand  and 
straight  as  an  arrow  sailed  away.  The  loop  expanded  and 
like  a  hawk  ready  to  strike,  it  hovered  for  an  instant  over 
the  frightened  animal's  head.  It  was  impossible  for  the 
poor  creature  to  dodge  it,  and  it  settled  around  his  neck. 


Throwing  the  Lasso  9 

Now  came  "Ben's"  part  in  the  performance,  and  he  knew 
as  much  about  the  game  as  his  rider  did.  He  was  going  at 
breakneck  speed,  but  the  instant  the  noose  left  Charloe's 
hand,  stiff-legged,  he  planted  both  front  feet  in  the  soft 
ground  and  as  soon  as  he  had  stopped  his  momentum  he 
reared  up  and  swung  himself  around.  Ben  knew  that  the 
end  of  that  lasso  was  made  fast  to  the  pommel  of  his  saddle 
and  unless  he  took  the  strain  down  his  spinal  column  he 
would  be  jerked  onto  his  nose.  As  it  was,  it  was  the  other 
horse  that  turned  a  summersault  as  the  rope  checked  his 
wild  career,  and  before  he  could  regain  his  feet  Charloe 
was  on  the  ground  and  had  deftly  tied  them.  He  was  then 
quickly  blindfolded  and  a  bridle  without  bit,  but  with  a 
tight-fitting  halter  to  keep  him  from  biting,  —  it  was 
called  a  "bosal"  —  and  prevented  the  animal  from  opening 
his  jaws,  —  was  fitted  to  him.  Then  his  feet  were  untied 
and  he  was  made  to  stand  up,  still  blindfolded.  My  sad- 
dle was  then  cinched  with  a  hair  girth  onto  him,  and  I 
mounted.  Charloe  then  suddenly  jerked  the  cloth  from  the 
pony's  eyes  and  the  fun  commenced.  The  animal  was 
dazed  for  a  moment  and  then  he  reached  his  head  around 
and  tried  to  bite  my  foot.  Finding  it  impossible  to  do  so, 
he  lowered  his  head  until  it  was  between  his  forelegs,  at 
the  same  time  arching  his  back,  and  leaped  straight  up 
into  the  air  landing  on  the  ground  stiff -legged,  and  followed 
this  performance  up  with  a  series  of  bucks  both  forward, 
backward,  and  sideways,  until  I  though  he  never  would 
have  done.  I  had  to  stay  there  until  he  gave  up,  for  if  once 
he  had  got  rid  of  me  he  would  have  become  a  confirmed 
bucker  and  would  have  tried  to  get  rid  of  his  rider  in  that 
way  ever  afterwards.  These  mustang  ponies  had  innately 
every  conceivable  horse  vice  such  as  bucking,  biting, 
pawing,  and  kicking,  besides  being  endowed  with  a  good 
memory.  When  the  pony  was  exhausted  he  gave  up,  and 
I,  also  weary,  was  glad  to  dismount.  When  the  ordeal  was 
over,  Charloe  simply  said,  "Bien,  tres  bien."   "Praise  from 


io    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Sir  Hubert  was  praise  indeed,"  and  I  felt  immensely 
pleased  at  Charloe's  approval  of  my  horsemanship.  Scenes 
like  this  constituted  my  school  of  equitation,  so  it  was  not 
extraordinary  that  years  afterwards  I  succeeded  in  aston- 
ishing the  Bedouins  in  Egypt  with  some  of  my  feats. 


CHAPTER  II 

Unlucky  in  love  —  The  home  of  a  Louisiana  aristocrat  —  Hospitality  and 
lengthy  visits  —  The  sugar-house  —  Appointed  a  midshipman  —  The  only 
Southern  man  who  could  not  whip  ten  Yankees  —  Religious  mania  —  Fortress 
Monroe  —  Mexican  pulque. 

I  had  other  pleasures  besides  chasing  wild  horses.  I  used 
to  delight  in  going  to  beautiful  Lynwood,  the  plantation  of 
General  Carter  in  the  parish  of  East  Feliciana,  and  some 
twenty  miles  from  Baton  Rouge.  Howell  Carter,  one  of 
the  general's  sons,  was  near  my  own  age  and  we  were  great 
friends,  and  Howell  had  a  beautiful  sister  whom  I  adored: 
the  fact  that  she  was  a  young  lady  in  society  made  no  differ- 
ence to  me.  She  acknowledged  that  I  was  her  sweetheart 
and  it  was  heaven  for  me  to  stand  by  the  piano  while  she 
sang  for  me ;  and  besides,  my  favorite  brother,  Gibbes,  some 
ten  years  my  senior,  approved  of  my  choice  and  compli- 
mented my  good  taste.  One  day  Gibbes  and  Lydia  Carter 
got  married  and  it  took  me  a  long  time  to  recover  from  the 
effects  of  their  treachery.  Gibbes  was  the  last  man  I  would 
have  suspected  of  being  my  rival. 

I  also  used  to  spend  a  great  deal  of  time  at  the  Hope  Es- 
tate Plantation,  about  four  miles  below  Baton  Rouge.  Col- 
onel Philip  Hicky,  its  owner,  was  the  most  elegant  and  the 
grandest  old  gentleman  I  ever  knew.  He  was  a  man  of  great 
wealth  and  unbounded  hospitality.  He  was  tall,  slim,  and 
straight,  and  his  manner  was  most  courtly.  His  welcome 
to  a  guest,  whether  self-invited  or  not,  made  the  recipient 
feel  very  much  at  home  as  well  as  good  all  over.  He  was 
a  patriarch  of  the  olden  time  and  lived  with  his  children, 
grandchildren,  and  great-grandchildren  around  him.  The 
old  plantation  house  seemed  to  be  made  of  india  rubber. 
There  was  always  room  for  a  few  more.  I  have  sat  at  his 
table  when  with  his  family  and  guests  more  than  thirty 


12  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

people  sat  down  to  dinner  and  this  was  not  an  unusual 
occasion,  but  a  thing  that  happened  nearly  every  day,  as 
his  home  was  convenient  to  the  town  and  all  of  his  ac- 
quaintances knew  they  would  receive  a  warm  welcome  if 
they  took  a  ride  and  dropped  in  to  dinner.  I  knew  a  lady 
who  paid  a  visit  to  Hope  Estate  which  lasted  for  more  than 
fifteen  years,  and  of  a  gentleman  who  paid  a  call  one  morn- 
ing when  he  was  a  very  young  man  and  never  left  until  his 
hair  was  white  and  the  old  colonel  had  been  dead  for  some 
years. 

One  of  my  father's  brothers  and  one  of  my  mother's 
brothers  had  married  daughters  of  Colonel  Hicky,  and 
their  children  and  the  other  grandchildren  ranged  in  years 
from  young  gentlemen  and  ladies  old  enough  to  go  into 
society,  to  boys  and  girls  of  my  own  age.  There  was  a  herd 
of  horses  which  roamed  about  the  great  pasture  and  every 
child  had  his  mount  —  the  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  of 
the  family  disdained  mustang  ponies  and  possessed  highly 
bred  Kentucky  saddlers.  The  great  event  of  the  year  at 
Hope  Estate  was  when  the  sugar- making  season  arrived. 
Then  all  was  life  and  bustle :  the  fires  were  lighted  and  the 
open  kettles  of  cane  juice  began  to  boil  while  the  slaves 
feeding  cane  to  the  carrier  which  carried  it  to  the  great 
iron  rollers  would  burst  into  song.  The  sugar-house  was 
some  distance  from  the  residence  and  when  night  came  the 
young  people  and  their  guests  would  mount  their  horses 
and  proceed  there  to  eat  colon  (taffy)  and  drink  vin  de  cane 
(sugar-cane  juice)  into  which  some  of  the  older  people 
would  put  a  little  spirits  if  they  felt  so  disposed.  With  the 
glare  of  the  furnaces  and  of  the  torches  around  the  carrier, 
it  was  a  pretty  picture  and  of  course  the  young  people 
danced  —  they  always  did  in  the  South  in  those  days  when 
two  or  three  boys  and  girls  got  together.  Toward  mid- 
night a  start  for  home  was  in  order.  We  boys  always  got 
off  ahead  of  the  older  people.  The  narrow  road  lay  be- 
tween fields  of  tall  waving  and  rustling  cane  calculated  in 


Appointed  a  Midshipman  13 

the  night  to  make  highly  imaginative  young  people  feel 
creepy.  As  we  approached  a  certain  bridge  over  a  small 
draining  canal,  every  boy  knew  what  was  coming  and  sat 
closer  to  his  saddle  as  he  took  a  fresh  and  stronger  grip 
with  his  knees.  As  the  leader's  horse's  feet  touched  the 
bridge  his  rider  would  give  a  whoop  and  cry,  "Runaway 
nigger!"  and  in  would  go  the  spurs  and  there  would  be  a 
wild  race  for  the  house,  each  boy  pretending  to  be  fright- 
ened to  death,  although  we  all  knew  that  such  a  thing  as  a 
"runaway  nigger"  had  never  been  seen  in  that  part  of  the 
country.  Slaves  there  were  treated  like  human  beings,  and 
the  threat  to  sell  one  would  tame  the  most  refractory  negro 
on  the  place. 

Some  of  the  sugar  planters  in  the  neighborhood  of  Baton 
Rouge  were  mean  enough  to  object  to  the  town  boys  de- 
vasting  their  sugar-cane  fields.  It  certainly  was  marvel- 
ous to  see  how  many  stalks  of  cane  a  small  boy  could  de- 
vour. There  was  a  Mr.  Hall  who  owned  a  large  plantation 
which  commenced  at  the  town  limits,  and  on  the  line  he 
planted  early  and  told  the  boys  that  that  particular  sugar- 
cane was  for  them,  but  such  is  the  contrariness  of  boys  that 
we  never  touched  it,  preferring  to  raid  the  fields  of  planters 
who  promised  to  do  all  kinds  of  things  to  us  if  they  caught 
us  on  their  grounds. 

It  was  amidst  such  scenes  as  I  have  tried  to  describe  that 
my  life  was  spent  until  I  arrived  at  the  age  of  fourteen, 
when  one  day  Mr.  Edouard  Bouligny,  a  member  of  Con- 
gress, offered  me  an  appointment  as  a  midshipman.  I  nat- 
urally became  wild  with  excitement,  for  as  I  had  never 
seen  blue  water,  I  longed  for  a  life  on  the  ocean  wave.  The 
only  unpleasant  prospect  was  that  it  was  impressed  upon 
me  that  I  would  have  to  attend  school  regularly  and  study 
hard  to  prepare  myself  for  the  examination  for  admission 
into  the  United  States  Naval  Academy.  Besides  my  back- 
wardness in  my  school  work  another  difficulty  which  was 
suggested  was  my  size,  as  I  was  small  for  my  age;  but  it 


14    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

turned  out  that  in  those  days  smallness  of  stature  was  not 
taken  into  consideration  if  a  boy  could  stand  the  examina- 
tions. So  I  turned  over  a  new  leaf  and  attended  school 
and  studied  conscientiously  until  one  day  a  difference  of 
opinion  arose  between  Mr.  Parsons,  a  six-foot  Yankee 
teacher,  and  myself.  I  felt  a  sudden  desire  to  lick  him,  and 
to  want  and  to  have,  with  me,  in  those  days  were  synony- 
mous terms,  so  I  sailed  in  with  the  intention  of  gratifying 
my  longing.  Gee!  What  that  Yankee  school-teacher  did 
not  do  to  me  is  not  worth  relating.  Fortunately  for  my 
self-respect  I  had  not  then  heard  the  expression  which 
became  so  popular  in  the  South  a  year  or  two  later,  — 
"  One  Southern  man  can  whip  ten  Yankees,"  —  but  I  de- 
cided that  Magruder's  Academy  was  no  place  for  a  gentle- 
man and  an  officer,  in  juturo,  so  I  severed  my  connection 
with  it  on  the  spot. 

My  elder  brother,  Judge  Morgan,  then  took  a  hand  in 
the  game  and  came  to  Baton  Rouge  from  New  Orleans  and 
carried  me  off  to  a  school  managed  by  a  Mr.  McNair,  and 
situated  in  a  forest  of  gigantic  yellow  pine  trees,  the  near- 
est inhabited  place  being  the  little  village  of  Amite,  about 
sixty  miles  from  New  Orleans.  One  would  imagine  that 
this  was  the  ideal  place  for  undisturbed  study,  but  it  was 
not.  It  was  the  most  melancholy  place  I  was  ever  in,  es- 
pecially when  night  came.  The  sighing  and  moaning  of 
the  big  pine  trees  when  the  wind  blew,  and  the  deathly 
stillness,  only  broken  by  the  sad  notes  of  the  whippoorwills, 
when  it  was  calm,  were  enough  to  have  given  any  one  the 
creeps  —  especially  a  boy  who  had  never  before  been  away 
from  home. 

Everything  at  the  school  went  on  like  clockwork,  and 
the  hundred  or  more  boys  seemed  contented  until  one  day 
a  very  popular  boy  returned  from  his  home,  where  he  had 
been  to  attend  a  funeral,  and  where  he  had  also  "got  reli- 
gion" (of  the  virulent  Mississippi  type)  at  a  camp-meeting. 
He  at  once  proceeded  to  inaugurate  prayer  meetings.  There 


Religious  Mania  15 

was  a  huge  pine  tree  a  little  way  from  the  schoolhouse  and 
the  ground  at  its  base  was  thickly  carpeted  by  pine  needles. 
They  were  convenient,  clean,  and  soft,  and  one  could  kneel 
upon  them  with  comfort.  At  first  only  two  or  three  boys, 
religiously  inclined,  joined  him;  but  soon  the  number  in- 
creased so  rapidly  that  other  trees  had  to  be  requisitioned, 
and  then  rivalry  commenced  as  to  which  of  the  little  con- 
gregations could  exhibit  the  best  prayer-maker.  Finally, 
with  one  exception  (myself),  every  boy  in  the  school  was 
taken  with  religious  mania  which  spread  amongst  the  assis- 
tant teachers.  Mr.  McNair  at  first  tried  to  moderate  the 
enthusiasm,  but  soon  fell  a  victim  to  the  contagion.  Every 
boy  wanted  to  lead  in  prayer  and  quarrels  soon  arose  as  to 
who  could  offer  up  the  most  eloquent  one.  Study  hours 
and  recitations  were  alike  forgotten  —  even  the  meals 
were  postponed  until  some  boy  could  finish  telling  the  good 
Lord  his  woes.  In  the  morning  we  would  assemble  in  the 
schoolroom  at  the  usual  hour  and  of  course  the  routine  of 
the  day  would  commence  by  Mr.  McNair  reading  a  chap- 
ter of  the  Bible  and  offering  up  a  prayer;  then,  instead  of 
proceeding  with  the  lessons,  one  boy  after  another  would 
rise  in  his  place  and  recount  his  religious  experience.  There 
was  a  remarkable  resemblance  in  these  experiences  which 
consisted  chiefly  in  the  boys  telling  their  audience  what 
fearful  sinners  their  parents  and  elder  brothers  and  sisters 
were,  and  how  pure,  perfect,  and  holy  they  themselves  had 
become  since,  single-handed,  they  had  come  off  victorious 
in  a  fierce  conflict  with  the  Devil,  captured  glory,  and  be- 
come one  of  the  elect.  This  sort  of  thing  went  on  all  day 
and  far  into  the  night.  Of  course  it  could  not  go  on  forever, 
and  the  news  soon  spread  far  and  wide  that  McNair's  whole 
school  had  gone  crazy. 

Parents  came  from  every  direction.  The  storm  was  about 
to  burst  and  break  up  the  school.  I  was  the  first  to  be  struck 
by  the  lightning.  I  was  sitting  at  my  desk  listening  to  one 
of  the  very  best  of  the  young  exhorters,  who  was  eloquently 


1 6  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

describing  the  imaginary  crimes  of  which  his  fond  mother 
was  guilty,  and  unfolding  his  plan  of  campaign  by  which 
he  hoped  to  save  her  from  the  claws  of  the  Devil  and  re- 
form her  at  the  same  time,  when  a  hand  the  size  of  a  small 
ham  seized  me  by  the  back  of  the  neck  and  awoke  me  from 
my  trance.  I  jumped  to  my  feet  and  squirmed  around  to 
find  myself  in  front  of  the  gigantic  form  of  my  brother, 
Judge  Philip  Hicky  Morgan,  his  handsome  face  purple  with 
rage.  "You  come  with  me,  sir!"  he  fairly  bellowed,  and 
I  never  got  out  of  any  place  so  quickly  before  that  I  can 
remember  of. 

Accompanied  by  Judge  Morgan's  wife  and  her  little 
children,  I  was  put  on  board  of  a  steamship  at  New  Or- 
leans bound  for  New  York  and  from  there  sent  to  Rutland, 
Vermont,  where  it  was  proposed  to  put  me  at  school,  but 
with  vivid  memories  of  the  thrashing  Mr.  Parsons  had 
given  me  I  did  not  intend  to  take  any  more  chances  with  a 
Yankee  school-teacher,  so  I  flatly  refused  to  go.  In  despair, 
my  sister-in-law  sent  me  to  my  eldest  sister,  the  wife  of 
Lieutenant  Drum,  he  being  then  the  adjutant  at  Fortress 
Monroe. 

The  gayety  of  "Old  Point  Comfort"  and  the  dancing 
morn,  noon,  and  night  at  the  hotel,  combined  with  the 
brilliant  uniforms  of  the  officers  and  the  military  drills  and 
parades,  suited  my  taste  exactly,  and  I  thought  I  had  at 
last  found  the  life  I  wanted  to  live.  But  Lieutenant  Drum 
had  different  views.  He  put  me  through  an  examination 
and  found  me  woefully  wanting,  and  without  so  much  as 
consulting  me,  he  determined  that  I  should  not  fail  at 
Annapolis.  He  elected  himself  chief  school-teacher,  bought 
the  necessary  books,  and  insisted  that  I  should  spend  a 
certain  number  of  hours  every  day  at  my  studies  while  he 
superintended  them.  One  day  it  was  hot  and  uncomfor- 
table, and  a  contrary  problem  would  not  come  out  right 
and  I  was  cross.  Lieutenant  Drum  was  a  stubborn  man  and 
insisted  that  I  should  keep  at  it.    I  lost  my  temper  and 


Fortress  Monroe  17 

threw  the  book  at  him  and  for  my  pains  got  an  awfully 
good  thrashing.  Think  of  it!  The  war  had  not  yet  com- 
menced and  here  within  a  year  I  had  twice  been  thoroughly 
licked  by  two  Yankees.  Thank  Heaven,  I  had  not  as  yet 
met  the  other  eight  that  were  to  make  up  the  ten  I  was 
shortly  afterwards  expected  to  whip. 

While  I  was  at  Fortress  Monroe  the  sloop-of-war  Plym- 
outh, the  Annapolis  practice  ship,  arrived  with  the  mid- 
shipmen on  board.  They  had  just  returned  from  their 
annual  cruise  and  I  went  fairly  wild  about  them,  especially 
as  some  of  them  condescended  to  notice  me  after  they 
learned  that  I  had  prospects  of  becoming  one  of  their  num- 
ber. I  almost  felt  grateful  to  Lieutenant  Drum  for  that 
thrashing  which  had  had  a  remarkable  effect  in  developing 
my  genius  for  mathematics. 

Shortly  after  the  Plymouth  left,  the  steam  sloop-of-war 
Brooklyn,  commanded  by  Commander,  afterwards  Ad- 
miral, David  G.  Farragut,  arrived.  She  was  just  about 
to  start  on  what  was  known  as  the  "  Cheriqui  Expedition" 
for  the  purpose  of  finding  a  new  route  for  a  canal  across  the 
Isthmus  of  Panama.  The  army  officers  in  the  Fort  enter- 
tained the  officers  of  the  ship  and  the  officers  of  the  Brook- 
lyn returned  the  compliment  by  giving  a  reception  on 
board.  My  sister  insisted  on  my  accompanying  her,  but 
I  did  not  want  to  go.  The  midshipmen  on  the  Plymouth 
had  told  me  a  lot  about  naval  commanders  and  lieutenants 
and  I  already  regarded  them  as  the  natural  enemies  of 
midshipmen.  However,  I  was  told  that  Commander  Farra- 
gut had  his  son  Loyal,  a  boy  of  about  my  own  age,  on 
board,  and  I  was  finally  persuaded  to  go.  My  sister  intro- 
duced me  to  Commander  Farragut  and  the  great  man, 
when  he  was  told  that  I  had  an  appointment  to  Annapolis, 
unbent  somewhat  and  asked  me  what  I  intended  to  bring 
my  sister  when  I  returned  from  my  first  cruise.  Now,  as 
ill  luck  would  have  it,  my  sister  greatly  admired  lapis- 
lazuli  stones  and  I  blurted  out,  "I  am  going  to  bring  her  a 


1 8    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

set  of  lapsus  linguae,  sir!"  There  was  a  roar  of  laughter 
amidst  which  I  made  my  escape.  I  knew  I  had  made  a  bad 
break,  but  what  it  was  exactly  I  did  not  understand.  All 
the  same  I  felt  awfully  mortified.  Years  afterwards  I  had 
the  honor  of  meeting  the  great  admiral  and  to  my  aston- 
ishment and  confusion  he  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  procured 
that  set  of  lapsus  linguae  for  my  sister. 

While  at  Fortress  Munroe  I  saw  an  interesting  test  of  a 
piece  of  ordnance,  the  "Sawyer"  gun,  the  first  rifled  can- 
non invented  in  the  United  States.  The  gun  was  mounted 
outside  of  the  Fort  on  the  beach.  The  officers  had  little 
confidence  in  it  and  every  precaution  was  taken  to  avoid 
accidents.  Lieutenant  Drum  and  I  stood  by  a  shed  some 
fifty  yards  away.  The  gun  was  fired  and  exploded  —  one 
half  of  the  breech  going  up  into  the  air;  coming  down  it 
struck  the  weatherboarding  just  over  our  heads  and  for- 
tunately glanced  inside  instead  of  outside  the  shed  where 
we  were  standing. 

The  Honorable  Jacob  Thompson,  of  Mississippi,  who 
was  Secretary  of  the  Interior  in  Mr.  Buchanan's  Cabinet, 
came  to  Old  Point  one  day  and  Colonel  Dimmick,  who  was 
in  command,  called  on  him  at  the  Hygeia  Hotel.  Mr. 
Thompson  was  not  in.  Mr.  Thompson  returned  the  visit, 
when,  unfortunately,  the  colonel  was  out  driving.  Neither 
man  had  ever  seen  the  other.  Colonel  Dimmick  then  sent 
his  adjutant  to  tender  a  review  to  the  Secretary  for  the 
next  morning.  The  secretary  was  so  late  in  appearing  on 
the  parade-ground  that  the  colonel,  losing  patience,  de- 
tailed an  officer  to  meet  Mr.  Thompson  when  he  should 
arrive,  saying  that  as  soon  as  Mr.  Thompson  was  in  posi- 
tion, he,  the  colonel,  would  lead  the  regiment  past. 

The  Fourth  Artillery,  which  garrisoned  the  Fort,  pos- 
sessed a  drum  major  of  whom  they  were  very  proud.  He 
was  nearly  seven  feet  tall,  and  with  his  great  bearskin  bon- 
net he  looked  like  one  of  the  giants  one  reads  about  in 
fairy  tales,  and  his  strut  and  the  deftness  with  which  he 


Mexican  Pulque  19 

twirled  his  gilt  baton  were  inimitable.  The  dignified  com- 
manding officer  was  rather  small  in  stature  and  not  at  all 
an  imposing  figure  in  comparison  with  his  drum  major. 
As  Mr.  Thompson  took  up  his  position,  the  band  com- 
menced to  play  and  the  regiment  moved  like  clockwork 
behind  it.  Arriving  in  front  of  the  secretary  the  drum 
major  sent  his  baton  into  the  air,  and  catching  it  as  it  de- 
scended he  made  it  whirl  several  times  and  suddenly  landed 
it  under  his  left  arm,  his  right  hand  simultaneously,  like 
that  of  a  mechanical  man,  going  to  his  forehead  in  salute. 
Mr.  Thompson  lifted  his  hat  and  then  fairly  swept  the 
ground  with  it.  After  the  band  came  little  Colonel  Dim- 
mick,  who  with  graceful  precision  saluted  with  his  sword, 
but  by  that  time  the  secretary  had  recovered  his  equilib- 
rium from  his  low  bow  to  the  drum  major  and  with  his 
arms  folded  across  his  swelled  chest  gazed  indifferently  at 
the  commanding  officer  and  took  no  further  notice  of  him. 
After  the  review  he  was  introduced  to  the  colonel,  and  re- 
marked, "  I  always  thought  the  captain  walked  at  the  head 
of  his  troops!" 

There  was  in  the  Fourth  Artillery  a  number  of  officers 
who  were  veterans  of  the  Mexican  War.  One  of  them  had 
but  one  arm.  It  seems  that  in  those  days  they  did  not  re- 
tire an  officer  on  account  of  the  loss  of  an  arm  if  he  was 
capable  of  attending  to  his  duties.  One  evening  a  dreadful 
contretemps  happened.  It  was  at  the  wedding  festivities 
of  the  colonel's  daughter.  The  wedding  ceremony  was  over 
and  the  guests  thronged  into  the  banquet  hall,  when  Lieu- 
tenant Drum  produced  three  bottles  of  Mexican  pulque. 
The  bottles  were  carefully  corked  and  sealed,  and  the  lieu- 
tenant had  himself  filled  them  and  brought  them  home 
after  the  evacuation  of  Mexico  some  thirteen  years  previ- 
ously. The  younger  officers  were  told  that  only  Mexican 
veterans  could  appreciate  pulque,  and  therefore  they  were 
not  to  be  permitted  to  taste  of  the  nectar,  as  there  was  so 
little  of  it.  Three  of  the  veterans  procured  three  corkscrews 


20  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  simultaneously  pulled  the  corks.  Suddenly  people 
began  to  sniff  as  though  they  had  smelt  something.  They 
had  —  there  was  a  sauve  qui  pent  from  the  supper-room  and 
the  remainder  of  the  function  had  to  be  carried  on  in  the 
grounds  outside  the  house.  Mr.  Drum  and  his  brother  vet- 
erans had  forgotten  that  pulque  could  only  be  drunk  when 
fresh  from  the  plant  and  that  in  a  few  hours  after  it  was 
gathered  it  became  putrid.  Any  one  who  has  ever  passed 
down  a  street  in  the  City  of  Mexico,  where  pulque  shops 
exist,  and  smelt  the  foul  odors  that  burden  the  air  can 
sympathize  with  the  merry-makers  at  the  wedding. 


CHAPTER  III 

Annapolis  —  "Old  Ironsides"  —  The  habit  of  command  —  Show  remark- 
able leniency  toward  the  midshipman's  hereditary  enemies,  the  commandant 
and  lieutenants  —  The  "brood  of  the  Constitution"  —  "Bill  Pip,"  our  first 
hero  —  Other  heroes  —  Skating  on  thin  ice  —  The  bilged  —  Secession. 

In  September,  i860,  I  went  to  Annapolis  and  presented 
myself  before  the  Board  of  Examiners  for  admittance.  The 
dignity  and  solemnity  of  the  officers  who,  arrayed  in  their 
uniforms  with  their  swords  beside  them,  sat  at  a  long  table, 
caused  me  to  have  a  slight  attack  of  stage  fright;  but  the 
ordeal  was  soon  over  and  I  was  allowed  to  go  out  in  the  fresh 
air  in  utter  ignorance  as  to  whether  I  had  passed  success- 
fully or  not.  My  mind,  however,  was  soon  relieved  by 
Lieutenant  Scott,  who  passing  by  said  to  me,  "Youngster, 
you  are  all  right." 

The  historical  frigate  Constitution  ("Old  Ironsides") 
had  recently  been  fitted  out  as  a  schoolship  and  lay  at  anchor 
in  the  Severn  River.  I  was  directed  to  go  on  board  of  her 
and  found  on  her  deck  a  number  of  other  boys  as  green  as 
myself.  Things  went  very  easily  at  first,  as  we  had  nothing 
to  do  besides  loafing  about  the  decks  and  wondering  at  the 
strangeness  of  our  surroundings.  We  had  no  wants,  unless 
it  was  a  longing  for  the  cute  little  jackets  with  the  brass 
buttons  and  the  beautiful  gold  anchors  on  the  lapels  of  the 
turned-down  collars.  The  captain  and  the  lieutenants  were 
just  too  sweet  for  anything,  answering  our  fool  questions  as 
though  their  one  object  in  life  was  to  please  us.  But  we 
were  ungrateful  and  took  much  more  interest  in  the  boat- 
swain's mates,  and  the  old  gray-haired  sailors  who  kept  the 
ship  clean  and  spun  yarns.  The  sailors  first  initiated  us  in 
the  mysteries  of  getting  our  hammocks  ready  and  how  to 
swing  them  on  the  berth  deck,  and  also  how  to  lash  them 
up  in  the  morning  when  we  "turned  out"  preparatory  to 


22  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

stowing  them  snugly  in  the  hammock  nettings.  Everything 
was  going  on  pleasantly  until  one  day,  to  our  great  delight, 
our  uniforms  arrived ;  they  were  so  pretty  that  it  seemed  a 
pity  they  should  make  such  a  difference  in  our  happy  lives, 
but  such  was  the  fact.  We  had  no  sooner  got  into  our  regu- 
lation togs  than  a  great  change  in  the  demeanor  of  every- 
body else  seemed  to  take  place.  Those  affable  and  chummy 
lieutenants  who  an  hour  before  had  treated  us  almost  as 
equals,  even  condescending  to  joke  with  us,  now  stood  on 
their  dignity,  and  if  they  spoke  at  all  it  was  to  give  an  order 
or  a  reproof.  The  old  sailors  gravely  saluted  us  as  they 
passed,  but  they  would  not  stop  for  a  little  conversation. 
I  wondered  what  we  had  done  to  deserve  such  treatment, 
but  I  was  not  long  in  finding  out.  With  the  uniform  I  had 
come  under  naval  discipline ;  and  it  was  extraordinary  how 
those  soft-spoken  lieutenants  licked  us  into  shape.  I,  who 
had  never  obeyed  anybody,  within  less  than  a  week  would 
jump  as  though  I  was  shot  when  one  of  them  would  give  me 
an  order.  The  routine  of  the  ship  had  commenced  in  earnest 
—  reveille,  dress  (and  woe  betide  him  who  had  lost  a  button 
or  whose  shoestring  was  not  properly  tied),  lash  the  ham- 
mocks, carry  them  up  to  the  spar  deck  and  stow  them  neatly 
in  the  nettings ;  breakfast ;  recitation ;  drill  at  the  great  guns ; 
recitation ;  infantry  drill ;  recitation ;  cutlass  exercise ;  recita- 
tion; dinner;  recitation;  boat  drill,  or  loosing,  reefing,  or 
furling  sail.  After  supper  were  the  study  hours  until  nine 
o'clock,  and  then,  after  slinging  our  hammocks,  discipline 
was  suspended  and  we  were  allowed  half  an  hour  to  skylark 
and  have  a  little  rough  house  —  which  would  always  be 
interrupted,  as  taps  sounded,  by  the  hoarse  voice  of  the 
master-at-arms  bellowing,  "Silence,  fore  and  aft,  gentle- 


men 


My  young  sisters  at  home  were  constantly,  at  this  time, 
writing  me  letters  filled  with  good  advice  and  begging  me  to 
control  my  temper  and  to  be  kind  to  those  nice  navy  officers, 
samples  of  whom  they  had  met  only  at  cotillions,  and  little 


The  "  Brood  of  the  Constitution  "        23 

did  they  dream  how  those  so  gentle  and  elegant  gentlemen 
could  on  occasion  roar  like  bulls  of  Bashan  and  scare  a 
midshipman  out  of  seven  years'  growth.  They  also  implored 
me  not  to  get  frisky  and  try  to  lasso  the  commandant  of 
midshipmen.  To  those  who  knew  the  late  Rear  Admiral 
C.  R.  P.  Rodgers,  that  embodiment  of  dignity  and  elegance, 
I  need  not  say  that  I  followed  my  sisters'  advice. 

The  drill  I  most  enjoyed  was  when  we  were  exercised 
aloft  making  and  furling  sail.  The  masts  of  the  old  frig- 
ate were  very  tall,  and  when  the  officer  of  the  deck  through 
his  speaking-trumpet  would  give  the  order,  "All  hands 
make  sail!"  we  would  rush  to  our  stations  and  stand  close 
to  the  rails  anxious  and  impatient  as  young  race-horses 
at  the  starting  barrier.  At  the  order,  "Aloft,  t'gallant 
and  royal  yardmen!"  "Aloft,  topmen!"  "Aloft,  lower 
yardmen!"  we  would  spring  into  the  shrouds,  and  hardly 
touching  the  ratlines  with  our  twinkling  feet,  a  perfect 
stream  of  midshipmen  would  dash  up  to  the  highest  yards 
decreasing  in  numbers  on  the  shrouds  as  they  reached  their 
stations.  Then  they  would  step  on  to  the  foot  ropes  and 
crowd  as  closely  as  possible  to  the  mast  until  the  order  was 
given  to  "lay  out  and  loose!"  when  they  would  go  out  on 
the  yardarms  and  cast  off  the  gaskets.  Then  would  come  the 
orders  in  rapid  succession,  "Let  fall!"  "Sheet  home!" 
"Lay  in!"  "Lay  down  from  aloft!"  — when  as  though  by 
magic  the  bare  poles  would  be  hidden  by  her  snow-white 
canvas  from  her  trucks  to  her  deck,  and  the  midshipmen, 
helter-skelter,  would  come  jumping  from  ratline  to  ratline 
until  they  reached  the  deck,  while  some  of  the  more  venture- 
some would  leap  to  a  backstay  and  slide  down  with  fearful 
velocity. 

They  were  a  gay  and  reckless  set  of  boys,  but  the  "  Brood 
of  the  Constitution"  will  be  remembered  as  long  as  history 
is  written.  It  is  true  that  at  that  time  we  only  had  one  hero 
amongst  us,  —  that  we  knew  of,  —  but  others  developed 
later.  Our  hero  at  the  time  was  a  red-headed,  freckle-faced, 


24    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

loose-jointed,  slabsided,  tall,  and  lanky  youth  from  the 
muleiest  regions  of  Missouri.  He  first  appeared  on  the  deck 
of  the  Constitution  dressed  in  coarse  and  baggy  clothes  set 
off  by  a  huge  green  cravat  tied  in  a  monstrous  bow-knot. 
He  gazed  around  the  deck  in  a  supercilious  sort  of  way, 
walked  over  to  a  hatchway,  and  leaned  against  a  windsail 
that  was  ventilating  the  berth  deck,  with  the  result  that 
he  almost  instantaneously  found  himself  three  decks  below 
where  he  thought  he  was.  We  thought  he  had  been  killed, 
but  his  long  arms,  which  he  had  thrown  around  the  wind- 
sail,  saved  him,  as  he  had  only  slid  the  distance  rather  rap- 
idly. Coming  on  deck  he  informed  us  that  he  had  ''slid 
down  three  stories."  He  introduced  himself  by  saying  that 
his  name  was  William  Pipkin,  but  that  they  always  called 
him  "  Bill  Pip  "  at  home  for  short,  and  that  he  would  be  just 
as  well  pleased  if  we  called  him  that,  as  he  was  more  accus- 
tomed to  it.  Needless  to  say,  we  accommodated  him.  He 
took  a  plug  of  tobacco  out  of  his  pocket,  cut  off  a  big  hunk 
which  he  placed  in  his  mouth,  and  then  generously  offered 
the  exquisite  and  elegant  officer  of  the  deck,  Lieutenant 
Robert  Wainwright  Scott,  a  chew,  which  was  declined  with 
a  savage  glare  that  would  have  caused  heart  failure  in  any 
of  the  rest  of  us,  but  which  did  not  faze  "Bill  Pip."  Shortly 
after  he  had  got  into  a  uniform  some  ladies,  among  them 
the  wives  of  some  of  the  officers,  visited  the  ship  and 
remained  aboard  rather  late.  It  was  getting  dark  when 
they  made  a  move  to  go  ashore,  and  one  of  them  ex- 
pressed herself  as  being  a  little  nervous  about  the  long 
walk  after  reaching  the  shore.  The  gallant  Lieutenant 
Upshur,  who  was  the  executive  officer  of  the  ship,  said  that 
he  was  sure  any  one  of  a  number  of  midshipmen  who  were 
standing  near  would  be  delighted  to  accompany  them,  and 
unfortunately,  for  him,  he  called  "Bill  Pip,"  who  was  the 
tallest  of  the  lot,  and  said,  "Mr.  Pipkin,  I  am  sure  you  will 
be  glad  to  escort  these  ladies."  To  the  lieutenant's  horror 
and  amazement,  the  lanky  boy  replied,  "I  am  very  sorry, 


Other  Heroes  25 

Mr.  Upshur,  but  the  last  thing  my  mother  said  to  me  when 
I  left  home  was, '  Bill  Pip,  you  keep  away  from  the  women ! ' " 

But  who  can  foretell  what  a  boy  will  turn  out  to  be? 
"Bill  Pip"  resigned  at  the  outbreak  of  the  Civil  War  and 
went  South.  He  did  not  like  the  navy  and  refused  an  ap- 
pointment in  that  of  the  Confederacy.  He  enlisted  in  the 
army  as  a  private,  but  the  navy  still  pursued  him.  He  was 
one  of  a  number  of  artillerymen  detailed  to  fill  the  comple- 
ment of  the  Arkansas's  crew  and  was  in  that  vessel  when 
she  ran  through  the  ironclad  fleet  above  Vicksburg  and  the 
wooden  sloops-of-war  of  Admiral  Farragut's  fleet  below 
that  city.  "Bill  Pip"  by  his  own  gallantry  and  merits  rose 
to  the  rank  of  full  colonel  in  the  army,  and  after  the  war 
went  into  business,  amassed  a  fortune,  and  died  a  million- 
aire! 

Although  we  were  unaware  of  the  fact  at  the  time  there 
were  other  heroes  on  that  historical  deck  where  Bainbridge, 
Hull,  and  Charles  Stewart,  to  say  nothing  of  "Bill  Pip," 
had  won  fame,  and  when  the  two  big  hawsers  were  stretched 
from  the  forecastle  to  the  sacred  quarter  deck,  which  we 
looked  upon  as  holy  ground,  and  the  boatswain  and  his 
mates  took  charge  of  the  class  to  teach  us  how  to  tie  sailor 
knots,  the  old  white-headed  captain  of  the  maintop,  if  he 
had  looked  down  upon  those  two  lines  of  midshipmen  who 
with  short  lengths  of  rope  yarn  and  ratline  were  being  taught 
the  difference  between  a  square  knot  and  a  "granny," 
would  have  seen,  among  others  who  afterwards  won  fame, 
fifteen  boys  who  were  to  become  rear  admirals  —  Charles 
E.  Clark,  who  brought  the  Oregon  around  the  continent  at 
the  outbreak  of  the  Spanish  War;  Francis  A.  Cook,  who  was 
to  command  Commodore  Schley's  flagship,  the  Brooklyn; 
Robley  D.  Evans  ("Fighting  Bob"),  who  was  to  command 
the  Iowa;  and  Harry  Taylor,  of  the  Indiana.  These  were 
the  heaviest  ships  of  Admiral  Sampson's  fleet  when  they 
destroyed  the  Spanish  squadron  at  Santiago.  He  would 
also  have  seen  standing  there  Gridley,  who  was  to  command 


26    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Admiral  Dewey's  flagship,  the  Olympia;  Frank  Wildes,  of 
the  Baltimore,  and  jolly  Joe  Coghlan,  of  the  Raleigh,  the 
three  biggest  ships  of  our  fleet  when  they  won  the  victory 
at  Manila.  He  could  also  have  seen  Sigsbee,  who  com- 
manded the  unfortunate  Maine  when  she  was  destroyed  in 
the  harbor  of  Havana;  Colby  M.  Chester,  who  was  to  com- 
mand a  small  squadron  which  was  to  make  it  possible  for 
our  army  to  take  possession  of  Porto  Rico ;  Crowninshield, 
who  was  to  be  chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Navigation  during  the 
Spanish  War;  and  Dick  Leary,  who  fired  the  last  shot  in 
that  campaign.  Nearly  all  of  the  Northern  boys  were  to 
serve  during  the  latter  part  of  the  Civil  War  and  partici- 
pate in  the  assaults  on  Fort  Fisher  and  Fort  Morgan. 

Among  the  Southerners  O.  A.  Brown  was  to  serve  on  the 
Confederate  cruiser  Shenandoah,  the  ship  that  went  on 
destroying  whalers  for  months  after  the  war  was  over  in 
blissful  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  the  Southern  Confeder- 
acy had  ceased  to  exist.  George  Bryan,  who  was  to  be  in 
the  C.S.  cruiser  Florida;  Berrien  who  was  to  be  in  the  C.S.S. 
Chickamauga;  and  Long,  who  was  to  be  both  in  the  Merri- 
mac  in  her  fights  in  Hampton  Roads  and  in  the  Albemarle 
when  she  fought  a  flotilla  of  gunboats  in  Albemarle  Sound ; 
Handsome  Wyndham  Mayo,  who  after  brilliant  service  in 
the  Confederacy  behaved  with  such  conspicuous  bravery 
and  showed  so  much  ability  when  a  passenger  steamer  which 
he  commanded  after  the  war  was  burned  in  Chesapeake 
Bay.  And  then  there  were  also  Gardner  and  Goodwyn,  who 
were  promoted  for  gallantry  to  lieutenancies  when  they 
took  part  in  a  small  boat  expedition  which  boarded  and  car- 
ried the  U.S.  gunboats  Resolute  and  Satellite  in  the  Rappa- 
hanock  River.  Besides  these  there  were  many  others  who 
gallantly  served  in  the  gunboats  and  naval  batteries  of  the 
Confederacy.  The  "Brood  of  the  Constitution"  surely  con- 
tained a  lot  of  good  fighting  material. 

Lieutenant  Commanding  George  W.  Rodgers  was  the 
captain  of  the  Constitution.  He  was  the  idol  of  the  midship- 


Other  Heroes  27 

men.  He  was  afterwards  killed  at  an  assault  on  Fort  Sumter 
when  in  command  of  the  U.S.  monitor  Katskill.  He  was  a 
strict  disciplinarian  with  very  gentle  manners ;  all  the  same, 
the  most  refractory  midshipman  did  not  care  to  be  haled 
before  him  on  any  charge  whatsoever.  On  Saturday  nights 
we  frequently  had  dances  —  which  we  called  "hops"  —  on 
board  the  frigate,  and  many  of  the  belles  of  Annapolis, 
Baltimore,  and  Washington  used  to  attend  them  just  as 
they  do  in  this  day  and  generation.  The  berth  deck  would 
be  decorated  with  flags  and  the  Academy  band  furnished 
the  music. 

Occasionally  we  had  a  little  excitement  on  board  of  "Old 
Ironsides."  One  day  "  Fighting  Bob"  Evans,  not  known  by 
that  sobriquet  in  those  days,  gave  us  a  thriller.  Two  boys, 
one  big  and  the  other  small,  had  an  altercation.  Bob  had 
nothing  to  do  with  it,  but  con  amore  proposed  to  the  big 
boy  that  he  would  help  the  little  one  lick  him.  The  little 
boy  like  a  goose  said  that  he  did  not  want  anybody  to  help 
him,  that  he  would  cut  his  antagonist  with  a  knife  if  he  was 
touched.  An  officer  passing  by  heard  the  remark,  and  think- 
ing that  it  was  Evans  who  made  it,  promptly  put  him  under 
arrest  and  marched  him  to  the  captain's  cabin,  and  preferred 
the  charge  against  him.  Under  the  midshipmen's  code  poor 
Bob  could  not  squeal  on  his  comrade. 

Captain  Rodgers  arose  from  his  seat.  His  wrath  was 
majestic  —  "And  so,  sir!"  he  said  to  Evans,  "you  propose 
to  raise  a  mutiny  on  board  of  my  ship.  I  will  let  you  know, 
sir,  that  a  midshipman  has  hung  to  a  yardarm  for  mutiny 
before  this,  and  you  dare  try  to  raise  one  and  I  will  hang 
you!"  And  turning  to  the  officer  said,  "  Confine  him  below." 
To  one  ignorant  of  the  annals  of  the  service  this  hanging 
business  would  have  sounded  like  an  empty  threat,  but  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  hanging  of  Midshipman 
Spencer,  son  of  the  Secretary  of  War,  on  board  of  the  brig 
Summers  was  at  that  time  an  affair  of  comparatively  recent 
date,  and  worse  than  that  the  captain  of  the  Summers, 


28  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Alexander  Slidell  McKensie,  was  a  "Rodgers,"  and  Bob 
did  not  know  but  what  the  hanging  of  midshipmen  ran  in 
the  blood. 

The  wardroom  of  the  old  frigate  was  away  down  below 
the  water  line  and  the  after  staterooms  were  as  dark  as 
Erebus.  Bob  was  confined  in  the  darkest  of  them.  He  stood 
it  for  about  twenty  minutes  and  then  requested  that  he 
should  be  allowed  to  write  a  letter.  Permission  being 
granted,  he  was  taken  into  the  light,  and  pen,  ink,  and  paper 
furnished  him,  and  this,  according  to  the  story  which  fil- 
tered down  to  us  midshipmen,  was  the  letter  he  wrote  to 
his  uncle,  a  lawyer  in  Washington :  — 

My  dear  Uncle  :  — 

I  have  committed  mutiny  and  they  are  going  to  hang  me.  If 
you  want  to  see  me  again  come  quickly  to  your  affectionate 
nephew, 

Robley  D.  Evans. 

Poor  little  Bob,  he  was  only  fourteen  years  of  age  and  of 
very  small  stature  for  his  years. 

The  winter  of  1 860-61  was  a  very  cold  one  to  me.  I  had 
once  seen  a  snow  flurry  at  home,  but  I  had  never  before  seen 
a  large  body  of  water  like  the  Severn  River  frozen  over. 
The  Northern  boys  were  delighted  and  at  once  begged  per- 
mission to  go  skating.  Seeing  them  gracefully  skimming 
over  the  ice  like  so  many  swallows  was  fascinating  to  me, 
and  I  could  not  resist  the  desire  to  join  them;  so  procuring 
a  pair  of  skates,  with  many  doubts  I  too  went  upon  the  ice. 
We  had  gone  ashore  and  walked  some  distance  up  the  river 
to  a  place  the  higher  authorities  thought  safe,  and  the 
master-at-arms  patroled  the  river-bank  to  afford  assistance 
in  case  of  need.  I  had  proceeded  only  a  short  distance  from 
the  shore  when  suddenly  both  feet  went  skyward  and  the 
back  of  my  head  hit  the  hard  ice  and  the  force  of  my  fall 
let  me  crash  through  it.  The  depth  of  the  water  was  over  my 
head  and  I  was  weighted  with  a  heavy  regulation  overcoat, 


The  Bilged  29 

but  I  could  swim  and  dive  almost  as  well  as  the  average 
alligator  of  my  native  bayous.  I  came  up  under  solid  ice 
and  then  went  down  again  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  find 
the  hole  I  had  come  through.  I  tried  to  climb  up  on  the  ice, 
but  it  would  break  as  fast  as  I  put  my  weight  on  it.  Slowly 
but  surely  I  thus  broke  my  way  toward  the  shore  and  soon 
found  myself  in  water  that  barely  reached  up  to  my  arm- 
pits. Seeing  me  standing  on  hard  bottom  the  master-at- 
arms  suddenly  determined  to  do  the  great  life-saving  act 
and  came  crashing  through  the  ice  and  seized  me  by  the 
arm.  I  was  escorted  to  the  ship  in  disgrace  and  repri- 
manded by  the  officer  in  charge  for  having  gone  on  the  ice 
without  informing  any  one  that  I  did  not  know  how  to 
skate.  The  master-at-arms,  who  had  seen  my  life-and-death 
struggle  from  the  river-bank  and  who  had  done  nothing  to 
help  me  until  I  was  safely  standing  on  the  bottom,  and 
there  was  no  further  danger  in  coming  to  my  assistance 
than  getting  the  legs  of  his  trousers  damp,  was  showered 
with  compliments  and  congratulated  as  a  life-saver  by  the 
higher  officers  (who  had  not  seen  the  incident),  much  to  the 
amusement  of  the  midshipmen  who  had  been  on  the  ice, 
many  of  whom  had  really  risked  their  lives  in  their  endeavors 
to  get  near  me. 

'  In  February  the  time  for  our  first  dreaded  examination 
arrived  and  there  was  intense  excitement  in  our  little 
floating  world.  Some  forty-odd  of  our  class  "bilged,"  which 
in  midshipman  parlance  means  that  they  were  found  defi- 
cient in  their  studies,  the  result  of  which  was  that  they 
received  polite  letters  from  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  in- 
forming them  that  if  they  would  send  him  their  resignations 
he  would  be  pleased  to  accept  them  at  once.  These  accept- 
ances arrived  promptly,  and  through  some  misunderstand- 
ing were  handed  to  the  unfortunate  boys  before  arrange- 
ments for  their  departure  had  been  completed,  and  of 
course  there  ensued  a  most  extraordinary  state  of  affairs. 
Here  were  some  forty-odd  young  civilians  suddenly  freed 


30  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

from  the  yoke  of  naval  discipline  and  detained  on  board  a 
man-of-war  where  every  movement  was  regulated  by  orders. 
Naturally  it  was  not  long  before  pandemonium  broke  loose. 
As  long  as  the  "bilged"  saw  the  officers  around,  the  train- 
ing they  had  received  in  the  last  few  months  kept  them  in 
order;  but  when  night  came  and  two  bells  (nine  o'clock) 
were  struck  and  the  hammocks  were  slung,  the  usual  rough 
play  on  the  berth  deck  became  almost  a  riot. 

To  separate  the  goats  from  the  sheep  the  "bilged"  were 
directed  to  sling  their  hammocks  as  far  forward  as  possible 
instead  of  on  their  customary  hooks.  When  taps  sounded 
and  the  gruff  voice  of  the  master-at-arms  bellowed  his 
usual  warning  of  "Gentlemen!  Silence,  fore  and  aft!"  the 
almost  sacred  order  was  received  with  derisive  shouts  of 
laughter  from  forward.  The  petty  officer  repeated  the  order, 
which  we  all  well  knew  emanated  from  higher  authority. 
There  was  an  ominous  silence  as  the  master-at-arms  retired 
up  the  hatchway.  Then  suddenly,  by  some  ingenious  de- 
vice of  the  "  goats  "  at  the  order,  "Let  fall!"  a  whole  row 
of  hammocks  occupied  by  "sheep"  came  down  with  a 
crash,  emptying  their  contents,  midshipmen,  blankets,  and 
mattresses,  in  indescribable  confusion  on  to  the  deck.  Man 
is  so  near  akin  to  monkeys  that,  as  Rochefoucauld  said, 
"We  even  take  a  certain  amount  of  pleasure  in  the  very 
misfortunes  of  our  friends";  and  all  the  boys  who  had 
escaped  the  disaster  burst  into  roars  of  laughter  which  were 
quickly  hushed  by  the  arrival  of  a  lieutenant  on  the  scene. 
The  hammocks  were  reslung  and  for  a  few  minutes  after 
the  officer's  disappearance  from  the  scene  there  was  silence 
again.  We  were  just  dozing  off  when  the  sound  of  a  giggle 
coming  from  forward  made  us  sit  up  and  take  notice.  The 
order  to  keep  silence  was  again  given  and  received  with 
laughter.  This  brought  Lieutenant,  now  Admiral,  John  H. 
Upshur,  the  executive  officer,  on  the  scene.  He  ordered 
silence  again  and  a  "goat"  answered  him  with  a  "tee-hee." 
The  lieutenant  walked  a  little  way  further  forward,  stoop- 


The  Bilged  31 

ing  as  he  went  to  avoid  the  hammocks  overhead,  and  re- 
peated his  command,  which  was  received  with  a  chorus  of 
"ha-ha's."  When  the  young  demons  had  enticed  him  as 
far  forward  as  they  wanted  him,  they  commenced  to  roll 
thirty-two-pound  round  shot  down  that  inclined  deck.  The 
lieutenant  manfully  stood  his  ground  for  a  moment,  but 
the  improvised  ten-pin  balls  came  faster  than  he  could  skip 
over  them  and  he  had  to  take  refuge  on  the  hatchway  steps. 
"Beat  to  quarters!"  he  fairly  roared,  and  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  "long  roll"  of  the  drums  we  jumped  into 
our  clothes  and  tumbled  up  on  deck,  where  we  took  our 
stations  at  the  guns ;  but  not  for  long,  for  we  were  marched 
down  to  the  main  deck  and  there  made  to  toe  a  seam  and 
stand  at  "attention."  Such  was  the  habit  of  discipline  that 
the  "goats,"  forgetting  that  they  were  free,  accompanied 
us. 

The  suave  and  elegant  lieutenant  in  charge  ordered  a 
wardroom  boy  to  bring  him  a  table,  a  chair,  a  newspaper, 
and  a  hot  cup  of  coffee,  and  made  himself  comfortable. 
After  what  seemed  to  me  an  interminable  time  the  deadly 
silence  was  broken  by  the  officer  saying  that  if  the  gentle- 
men who  had  made  the  disturbance  would  step  forward  he 
would  gladly  let  the  rest  of  us  "turn  in."  He  just  said  that 
for  form's  sake,  as  no  one  knew  better  than  he  did  that  the 
traditions  of  the  Naval  Academy  did  not  allow  a  midship- 
man to  "squeal"  under  any  circumstances  —  and  the  hours 
dragged  along.  At  last,  becoming  desperate,  some  of  the 
fighting  men  of  the  class  asked  permission  to  leave  the 
ranks,  which  was  granted,  as  the  lieutenant  had  been  a 
midshipman  himself  and  knew  what  was  coming  as  well  as 
the  boys  did.  These  fellows  went  to  the  guilty  parties  and 
intimated  to  them  that  there  would  be  some  black  eyes  to 
carry  home  if  they  did  not  confess  and  let  the  rest  of  us  have 
some  rest.  The  hint  acted  like  a  charm,  and  one  after  an- 
other of  the  newly  made  civilians  stepped  forward.  It  was 
then  so  nearly  time  for  reveille  that  it  was  hardly  worth 


32    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

while  for  us  to  go  to  sleep  again,  but  we  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  a  very  seedy-looking  set  of  civilians  go  over  the 
side  the  next  morning  as  they  bade  farewell  forever  to  a 
naval  career. 

Occasionally  we  were  taken  ashore  for  infantry  drill  with 
the  battalion  composed  of  the  "oldsters"  who  lived  in  the 
old  Academy  buildings.  The  Professor  of  Infantry  Tactics 
was  Major  Lockwood,  a  gallant  officer  who  afterwards  be- 
came a  brigadier-general  in  the  Union  Army.  Major  Lock- 
wood  unfortunately  stammered  and  once  the  battalion  got 
facetious  with  him.  He  had  instructed  them  that  they  must 
never  make  a  motion  to  obey  an  order  until  they  heard 
the  last  sound  of  the  command.  He  was  in  front  of  the 
battalion  holding  the  hilt  of  his  sword  in  his  right  hand  and 
the  end  of  the  blade  in  his  left.  He  gave  the  order  to  march 
all  right,  and  then  he  gave  the  order  to  charge  while  he  was 
walking  backward  intending  to  halt  them  when  they  got 
near  him,  but  a  fit  of  stammering  came  over  him  and  he 
could  only  say  "Ha-Ha-Ha-!"  and  before  he  could  finish 
the  word  the  midshipmen  had  run  over  him  and  also  over 
the  sea-wall  and  into  the  water,  guns,  uniforms,  and  all. 
Of  course  for  the  moment  there  was  a  great  deal  of  hilarity, 
but  unfortunately  those  intelligent  navy  officers  know  an 
antidote  for  every  prank  a  midshipman  can  conceive. 

By  the  end  of  i860  a  dark  cloud  had  settled  over  our 
spirits  and  we  no  longer  spent  our  few  moments  of  leisure 
in  skylarking,  but  instead  discussed  the  burning  question 
of  secession.  We  did  not  know  anything  about  its  merits, 
but  conceived  the  idea  that  each  State  was  to  compose  a 
separate  nation.  Harry  Taylor,  afterwards  rear  admiral, 
who  was  from  the  District  of  Columbia,  said  that  he  was 
going  with  New  York  because  that  State  had  more  com- 
merce than  any  other  one,  and  necessarily  would  have  the 
biggest  navy.  He  was  promptly  called  down  by  being  in- 
formed that  no  one  would  be  allowed  to  join  any  State 
except  the  one  he  was  born  in,  —  and  he  was  further  humili- 


Secession  33 

ated  by  a  much-traveled  boy  who  asserted  that  he  had  been 
in  Washington  and  that  the  District  of  Columbia  had  only 
one  little  steamboat  out  of  which  to  make  a  navy  and  that 
one  ran  between  Washington  and  Acquia  Creek  and  that 
she  was  rotten.  Personally,  I  was  insulted  by  being  informed 
that  Louisiana  had  been  purchased  by  the  money  of  the 
other  States  just  as  a  man  buys  a  farm,  and  that  therefore 
she  had  no  right  to  secede.  This  was  said  in  retort  after  I 
had  made  the  boast  that  by  rights  many  of  the  States  be- 
longed to  Louisiana.  So  the  wrangle  went  on  day  after  day 
until  the  news  came  that  South  Carolina  had  in  reality  se- 
ceded and  the  boys  from  that  State  promptly  resigned  and 
went  home.  Then  followed  the  news  of  the  firing  on  Fort 
Sumter.  The  rest  of  the  lads  from  the  South  resigned  as 
rapidly  as  they  could  get  permission  from  home  to  do  so 
—  I  among  the  rest. 

I  passed  over  the  side  of  the  old  Constitution  and  out  of 
the  United  States  Navy  with  a  big  lump  in  my  throat  which 
I  vainly  endeavored  to  swallow,  for  I  had  many  very  dear 
friends  among  the  Northern  boys  —  in  fact,  affectionate 
friendships,  some  interrupted  by  death,  but  a  few  others 
which  have  lasted  for  more  than  half  a  century.  To  my 
surprise  my  captain,  George  Rodgers,  accompanied  me 
ashore  and  to  the  railway  station,  telling  me,  as  I  walked 
beside  him,  that  the  trouble  would  end  in  a  few  weeks  and 
that  I  had  made  a  great  mistake,  but  that  even  then  it  was 
not  too  late  if  I  would  ask  to  withdraw  my  resignation. 

As  we  passed  through  the  old  gate  opening  into  the  town, 
the  gate  which  I  was  not  to  pass  through  again  until  my 
head  was  white,  fifty  years  afterwards,  and  as  we  walked 
along  the  street,  Captain  Rodgers  kindly  took  my  hand  in 
his,  and  then  for  the  first  time  I  realized  that  I  was  no 
longer  in  the  navy,  but  only  a  common  and  very  unhappy 
little  boy.  But  the  Confederacy  was  calling  me  and  I 
marched  firmly  on.  That  call  seemed  much  louder  at 
Annapolis  than  it  did  after  I  reached  my  native  land. 


CHAPTER  IV 

Out  of  the  United  States  Navy  —  Complete  disguise  —  Captain  Maynadier, 
U.S.A.  —  Passing  through  the  Union  and  Confederate  lines  —  Senator  Wigfall 
and  President  Andrew  Johnson  —  Montgomery,  Alabama  —  President  Jeffer- 
son Davis  and  Judah  P.  Benjamin  —  Tender  services  and  sword  to  the  Con- 
federacy —  Declined  with  thanks  —  The  "Marseillaise." 

At  that  time  I  was  very  small  for  my  age  (fifteen)  — 
so  small,  in  fact,  that  I  was  dubbed  "Little"  Morgan,  which 
nickname  has  stuck  to  me  to  this  day  despite  my  five  feet 
nine  and  a  quarter  inches  in  height  and  over  two  hundred 
pounds  weight.  With  as  much  dignity  as  my  size  at  the  time 
would  permit  of  my  assuming,  I  took  my  seat  in  the  car  and 
started  for  Washington.  Then  I  commenced  to  size  up  the 
situation.  I  had  only  twelve  dollars,  all  the  pay  that  was  due 
me  when  I  resigned,  and  there  was  a  thousand  miles  for  me 
to  travel  to  reach  my  home ;  but  what  worried  me  most  was 
the  fear  that  the  authorities  would  arrest  me  if  they  knew 
that  I  proposed  to  offer  my  services  to  the  Southern  Con- 
federacy. I  had  no  civilian  "togs,"  but  I  had  taken  the 
gold  anchors  off  my  collar,  on  which  they  had  left  dark 
imprints,  and  put  blue  velvet  covers,  fastened  by  elas- 
tics, over  the  brass  buttons  of  my  jacket.  There  were  only 
nine  buttons  on  a  side,  so  of  course  they  were  not  conspic- 
uous. This,  with  the  glazed  cover  of  my  cap  to  hide  the 
silver  anchor  which  adorned  its  front,  constituted  my  dis- 
guise, which  I  felt  sure  would  be  sufficient  to  enable  me  to 
slip  through  the  enemy's  capital  without  recognition.  I 
was  just  beginning  to  feel  comfortable  when  a  motherly- 
looking  old  lady  in  the  opposite  seat  disturbed  my  equanim- 
ity by  asking  me  in  a  loud  voice  if  I  was  "one  of  those  little 
Naval  Academy  boys  who  were  going  South?  "  That  woman 
surely  had  the  making  of  a  Sherlock  Holmes  in  her. 

I  had  not  an  idea  as  to  what  I  would  have  to  do  to  reach 
home  after  I  arrived  in  Washington,  so,  to  throw  the  minions 


Captain  Maynadier,  U.S.A.  35 

of  Abraham  Lincoln  further  off  my  trail  I  went  straight 
to  the  house  of  Captain  Henry  Maynadier,  U.S.A.,  an 
ardent  Union  man  who  had  married  one  of  my  first  cousins. 
I  told  him  that  I  wanted  to  get  home  and  had  no  money, 
and  then,  washing  my  hands  of  all  responsibility,  left  the 
rest  for  him  to  do.  He  did  it.  He  obtained  a  permit  for 
himself  and  me  to  pass  through  the  lines,  and,  hiring  a  hack, 
we  started  on  our  adventure. 

The  Union  pickets  held  the  Long  Bridge;  half  a  mile 
below  on  the  Alexandria  Road  were  posted  the  Confederate 
sentries.  Of  course,  with  the  permit  we  had  no  difficulty  in 
crossing  the  bridge,  but  before  we  had  proceeded  very  far 
on  the  road  a  man  with  a  gun  jumped  out  of  the  bushes  and 
ordered  us  to  halt.  The  fellow  was  an  Irishman  who  had 
formerly  done  chores  at  Captain  Maynadier's  house  in 
Washington,  and  of  course  he  instantly  recognized  him, 
at  the  same  time  crying  out  gleefully,  " Begorra!  we'll  whip 
those  dirty  nigger-loving  Yanks  now  that  you  are  coming 
with  us!" 

The  captain  said  a  few  pleasant  words  and  told  him  that 
I  was  going  South  and  asked  him  to  see  that  I  did  not  miss 
my  way  to  Alexandria  where  I  was  to  catch  the  train.  He 
also  told  me  to  jump  out  quickly  and  ordered  the  driver  to 
turn  around.  I  had  hardly  reached  the  ground  when  the 
driver  put  whip  to  his  horses  and  the  astounded  picket, 
recovering  from  his  astonishment,  raised  his  gun.  I  begged 
him  not  to  shoot,  assuring  him  that  Captain  Maynadier 
was  coming  South  later.  He  did  —  with  Sherman !  This 
adventure  occurred  in  the  latter  part  of  April.  In  November 
of  the  same  year  Captain  Maynadier  and  I  were  shooting 
at  each  other  at  Island  Number  10  on  the  Mississippi 
River. 

Arriving  at  the  railway  station  in  Alexandria,  I  found  a 
great  crowd  wildly  cheering  ex-Senator  Wigfall,  who  was 
a  volunteer  aide  on  General  Beauregard's  staff,  and  who 
had  received  the  sword  of  Major  Anderson  when  Fort 


36    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Sumter  surrendered.  Wigfall  stood  on  the  rear  platform  of 
a  car,  bowing  his  appreciation  of  the  enthusiasm.  I  found 
an  unoccupied  seat  on  the  train  and  was  making  myself 
comfortable  when  a  big,  broad-shouldered,  stumpy  man 
waddled  up  to  where  I  sat  and  said,  "Sonny,  as  you  are  so 
small  and  I  am  so  large,  I  think  we  will  make  a  good  fit  for 
this  narrow  seat ";  and  without  further  ado  he  seated  him- 
self beside  me,  first  asking  me  to  move  so  he  could  have  the 
place  by  the  window. 

The  train  started  amid  wild  cheers  for  Wigfall,  the  hero 
of  the  hour,  and  at  every  station  where  we  stopped  crowds 
were  gathered  demanding  a  speech  from  the  great  man. 
The  stout  fellow  with  the  short  legs  who  was  seated  beside 
me  apparently  took  no  interest  in  the  proceedings,  and 
seemed  engrossed  by  his  own  thoughts.  It  was  sometime 
after  dark  when  we  arrived  at  Lynchburg,  Virginia,  where 
the  largest  crowd  we  had  yet  seen  was  waiting  for  the  train. 
Many  of  the  men  bore  torches,  but  they  were  not  cheering 
for  Wigfall ;  they  seemed  to  be  in  an  ugly  humor  about  some- 
thing. Suddenly  there  were  cries  of  "Hang  the  traitor!" 
"Here  is  a  rope!"  "Bring  him  out!"  as  the  maddened 
mob  fairly  swirled  about  the  car. 

A  man  burst  through  the  door  and  rushed  up  the  aisle 
to  where  I  was  seated  and,  leaning  over  me,  said  to  my 
neighbor:  "Are  you  Andy  Johnson?" 

"I  am  Mr.  Johnson!"  replied  the  stout  gentleman. 

"Well,"  said  the  stranger,  "I  want  to  pull  your  nose!" 
and  he  made  a  grab  for  Mr.  Johnson's  face. 

The  latter  brushed  the  man's  hand  aside,  at  the  same 
time  jumping  to  his  feet. 

There  followed  a  scuffle  for  a  few  seconds,  and  poor  little 
me,  being  between  the  combatants,  got  much  the  worst  of 
it:  I  was  most  unpleasantly  jostled. 

The  crime  for  which  they  wanted  to  lynch  Mr.  Johnson 
was  the  fact  that  he  was  reported  to  be  on  his  way  to  Ten- 
nessee for  the  purpose  of  preventing  that  State  from  seced- 


Senator  Wigfall  and  Andrew  Johnson      37 

ing.  Mr.  Wigfall  came  up  to  Mr.  Johnson  and  asked  him 
to  go  out  on  the  platform  with  him.  Wigfall  at  once  ad- 
dressed the  mob  and  urged  them  to  give  Mr.  Johnson  a 
hearing,  which  they  did.  The  latter  commenced  his  speech 
by  saying,  "I  am  a  Union  man!"  and  he  talked  to  them 
until  the  train  moved  off,  holding  their  attention  as  though 
they  were  spellbound.  His  last  words  were,  "  I  am  a  Union 
man!"  —  and  the  last  cry  we  heard  from  the  crowd  was, 
"Hang  him!" 

Relating  the  foregoing  incident  to  Mr.  George  A.  Tren- 
holm,  then  Secretary  of  the  Confederate  Treasury,  I  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  it  was  one  of  the  greatest  exhibi- 
tions of  courage  I  had  ever  witnessed,  but  Mr.  Trenholm 
cast  a  damper  on  my  enthusiasm  by  saying,  "My  son, 
I  have  known  Mr.  Johnson  since  we  were  young  men.  He 
rode  into  prominence  on  the  shoulders  of  just  such  a  mob 
as  you  saw  at  Lynchburg,  and  no  man  knows  how  to  handle 
such  a  crowd  better  than  Mr.  Johnson.  Had  he  weakened 
they  probably  would  have  hung  him."  It  was  the  same 
Andrew  Johnson,  afterwards  President  of  the  United 
States,  who  granted  Mr.  Trenholm  amnesty  and  a  pardon 
in  1866. 

Continuing  my  journey  I  at  last  arrived  at  Montgomery, 
Alabama,  then  capital  of  the  Confederate  States.  My  fears 
that  the  war  would  be  over  before  I  got  there  were  somewhat 
allayed  —  for  I  had  been  told  positively  that  it  would  not 
last  six  weeks  before  the  South  would  finish  it  victoriously. 
I  found  the  new  capital  in  a  ferment  of  excitement,  nobody 
seemed  to  know  exactly  what  it  was  about,  but  it  was  the 
fashion  to  be  excited.  From  every  house  containing  a  piano 
the  soul-stirring  strains  of  the  "Marseillaise"  floated  out 
of  the  open  windows.  At  the  hotel  where  I  stopped  cham- 
pagne flowed  like  water.  The  big  parlor  was  crowded  with 
men  dressed  in  uniforms  designed  to  please  the  wearer,  so 
they  looked  like  a  gathering  for  a  fancy-dress  ball.  On  the 
chairs  and  window  sills  were  bottles  of  wine  and  glasses, 


38    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

while  at  the  piano  sat  a  burly  German  who,  of  course, 
crashed  out  the  everlasting  "Marseillaise"  while  his 
enthusiastic  audience  sang  it.  A  more  ridiculous  sight 
than  a  lot  of  native-born  Americans,  not  understanding 
a  word  of  French,  beating  their  breasts  as  they  howled 
what  they  flattered  themselves  were  the  words  of  the  song, 
it  was  never  before  my  bad  fortune  to  witness.  But  there 
was  really  good  reason  for  all  the  excitement:  had  not 
twelve  millions  of  people  all  gone  crazy  on  the  same  day? 

I  put  my  head  out  of  a  window  so  that  I  could  get  a  little 
fresh  air.  There  was  a  moment's  halt  in  the  music  while 
some  one  made  a  war  speech.  The  tired  and  sweating 
German  musician  took  advantage  of  the  respite  to  get  a 
little  air  also,  and  as  he  stood  beside  me  I  heard  him  mut- 
ter: "Dom  the  Marseillaise!" 

The  morning  after  my  arrival  I  went  to  the  capitol  to 
offer  my  services,  and  the  sword  I  intended  to  buy,  to  the 
Government.  There  were  numbers  of  employees  rushing 
about  the  building  in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  but  with 
nothing  to  do.  None  of  them  could  tell  me  where  I  could 
find  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy.  At  last  I  ran  across  an  in- 
telligent official  who  informed  me  that  "there  warn't  no 
such  person."  It  appeared  to  be  the  custom  of  the  attaches, 
when  in  doubt,  to  refer  the  stranger  to  Mr.  Judah  P.  Ben- 
jamin, the  "Pooh  Bah"  of  the  Confederate  Government, 
then  Secretary  of  State.  He  informed  me  that  there  was 
not  as  yet  any  Confederate  Navy,  and  further  humiliated 
me  by  calling  me  "Sonny."  However,  he  was  very  kind  and 
took  me  into  the  private  office  of  President  Jefferson  Davis. 
Talk  about  "the  blow  that  killed  father"  —  it  was  nothing 
in  comparison  to  the  jolt  I  then  and  there  received.  Mr. 
Davis  was  kindness  personified  and  told  me  to  go  home 
and  tell  my  parents  that  as  soon  as  the  Government  es- 
tablished a  naval  school  I  should  have  one  of  the  first  ap- 
pointments. I  left  the  presence  of  the  great  man  crestfallen 
and  convinced  that  the  Confederacy  was  doomed.    I  had 


The  "  Marseillaise  "  39 

come  to  fight,  not  to  go  to  school.  Had  I  not  just  left  the 
greatest  naval  school  in  the  world  to  avoid  getting  an  edu- 
cation? And  here  the  best  they  could  offer  me  was  a  place 
in  some  makeshift  academy  that  was  to  be  erected  in  the 
dim  future.  I  felt  that  I  had  been  deceived  and  badly 
treated,  and  I  mentally  comforted  myself  with  the  assur- 
ance that  I  knew  more  about  drill  and  tactics  than  the  whole 
mob  of  civilian  generals  and  colonels  who  thronged  the 
capitol's  corridors.   But  Mr.  Davis  did  not  know  this. 

I  was  a  full-blown  pessimist  by  the  time  I  reached  my 
hotel  where  I  was  greeted  by  the  sounds  of  the  everlasting 
"Enfants  de  la  patrie"  being  hiccupped  as  usual  in  the 
parlor;  and  for  the  rest  of  the  day  I  iterated  and  reiterated 
the  German's  prayer,  "Dom  the  Marseillaise!" 

The  only  way  to  get  from  Montgomery  to  Mobile  was  by 
steamboat;  and  all  the  boats  had  been  seized  by  the  Gov- 
ernment for  the  transportation  of  troops.  After  much  urging 
the  captain  of  one  of  the  transports,  as  a  favor,  allowed  me 
to  pay  for  my  passage  to  Mobile  on  condition  that  I  would 
sleep  on  the  deck,  if  I  could  find  a  place,  and  supply  my  own 
provisions.  The  boat  would  start  when  he  received  orders, 
but  he  did  not  know  when  that  would  be.  A  two  days' 
wait  followed,  during  which  I  stayed  on  the  boat  so  as  to 
be  sure  that  I  would  not  be  left  and  consequently  lose  the 
price  of  my  passage.  That  was  important,  as  my  finances 
were  running  low.  Confederate  money  had  not  yet  made 
its  appearance  and  gold  was  already  being  hoarded.  I  had 
already  lost  quite  a  sum  in  exchanging  one  State's  money 
for  another,  as  even  the  paper  money  issued  in  one  county 
did  not  pass  at  par  in  the  next  (if  accepted  at  all),  but  every- 
body was  jubilant  over  the  fact  that  the  Confederate  Con- 
gress had  appropriated  fifteen  millions  of  dollars  to  carry  the 
war  on  to  a  successful  termination. 

Finally,  after  endless  delay,  a  swarm  of  volunteers  took 
possession  of  the  boat  and  we  were  off.  The  transport  carried 
no  guns,  but  she  was  arrried  with  an  instrument  of  torture, 


40    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

called  a  "calliope,"  or  steam  piano,  and  as  she  backed  out 
into  the  river  it  broke  loose,  shrieking  an  imitation  of  the 
"Marseillaise,"  which,  with  few  intermissions,  was  kept  up 
during  the  two  days  and  nights  it  took  us  to  reach  Mobile. 
When  the  calliope  did  stop,  it  was  very  soothing  to  hear 
the  negro  deck-hands  break  into  song  with  their  tuneful 
melodies. 

The  volunteers  were  composed  of  fresh,  youthful-looking 
men,  and  almost  every  one  of  them  was  accompanied  by 
a  "body-servant,"  as  negro  valets  were  called  in  the  South. 
They  were  also  accompanied  by  a  great  number  of  baskets 
of  champagne  and  boxes  of  brandy.  Few  aristocrats  in 
those  days  ever  drank  whiskey,  which  was  supposed  to  be 
a  vulgar  tipple.  They  also  had  huge  hampers  containing 
roasted  turkeys,  chickens,  hams,  and  all  sorts  of  good  things 
with  which  they  were  very  generous.  Every  private  also 
had  from  one  to  three  trunks  containing  his  necessary  ward- 
robe. I  saw  some  of  these  same  young  men  in  the  muddy 
trenches  in  front  of  Richmond  in  1865,  when  they  were 
clothed,  partially,  in  rags  and  were  gnawing  on  ears  of  hard 
corn,  and  would  have  gladly  exchanged  half  a  dozen  negroes 
or  a  couple  of  hundred  acres  of  land  for  a  square  meal  or  a 
decent  bed  to  sleep  on. 


CHAPTER  V 

Arrive  in  New  Orleans  —  Brother  Harry  killed  next  morning  in  a  duel  — 
Home-coming  in  Baton  Rouge. 

At  Mobile  I  had  to  take  another  boat  for  New  Orleans 
which,  passing  through  the  Mississippi  Sound  and  Lake 
Ponchartrain,  at  last  landed  me  in  a  country  where  I  felt 
at  home.  I  never  realized  before  how  sweetly  the  Creole 
accent  sounded.  I  was  met  by  my  brother  Harry,  who  had 
recently  returned  from  Europe  where  he  had  been  for  the 
purpose  of  taking  a  post-graduate  course  in  his  medical 
studies.  Harry  was  in  high  spirits  because  he  had  received 
an  appointment  as  an  assistant  surgeon  in  the  Confederate 
Army.  He  told  me  all  the  family  news  and  how  my  brother 
Gibbes  was  a  lieutenant  in  the  Seventh  Louisiana  Regiment 
and  had  just  left  for  Virginia,  and  that  my  brother  George 
was  a  lieutenant  in  the  First  Louisiana  and  had  gone  to 
Pensacola,  Florida.  It  appeared  to  me  that  the  Confederacy 
wanted  the  whole  family  —  with  the  exception  of  myself. 

Arriving  at  my  brother  Judge  Morgan's  house  I  was  so 
glad  to  see  the  family  that  for  the  time  being  I  forgot  about 
the  ingratitude  the  Southern  Confederacy  had  shown  me. 
That  evening  there  was  a  dinner  party  at  the  house  and 
among  the  guests  were  Mr.  Bouligny,  recently  member  of 
Congress,  and  probably  the  most  famous  duelist  in  the 
State;  also  Mr.  Heriat,  editor  of  "The  Bee, "  the  newspaper 
that  never  apologized.  Mr.  Heriat  was  its  fighting  editor. 
Judge  Morgan  was  the  only  Union  man  at  his  table,  and 
as  the  conversation  naturally  turned  upon  the  war  he  was 
the  target  for  all  the  shafts  of  wit  and  humor.  One  of  the 
guests  described  a  ludicrous  sight  he  had  witnessed  that 
morning  when  a  youth,  well  known  to  my  brother,  while 
doing  sentry  duty  in  front  of  a  public  park,  had  ordered 
the  gigantic  judge  to  halt  as  he  was  on  his  way  to  hold  court, 


42  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  how  the  judge  had  brushed  sentry  and  gun  aside  and 
almost  frightened  the  poor  boy  out  of  his  wits  by  saying,  "  I 
have  a  great  mind  to  send  you  to  jail  for  a  month!" 

The  judge  related  his  experiences  at  a  mass  meeting  held 
the  night  before  at  the  Clay  statue  on  Canal  Street.  He 
was  one  of  the  speakers  and  the  crowd  knew  his  senti- 
ments and  had  made  their  preparations.  He  told  them  that 
if  they  would  fight  the  abolitionists  within  the  Union  he 
would  fight  with  them,  but  warned  them  that  if  they  fired 
a  shot  at  the  Stars  and  Stripes  in  less  than  five  years  their 
slaves  would  be  their  political  masters.  This  opinion  was 
indeed  prophetic,  but  just  then  a  straw  man  about  fifteen 
feet  long  with  a  placard,  on  which  was  written  in  great 
letters,  UP.  H.  Morgan  —  Traitor,"  pinned  to  it  was  set  on 
fire  and  hoisted  on  a  telegraph  pole. 

When  bedtime  came,  Harry,  who  had  always  made  a  pet 
of  me,  said  that  I  must  sleep  with  him,  and  the  judge  told 
him  to  go  to  bed  and  get  some  rest,  as  he  wished  to  speak 
with  me  privately.  When  Harry  had  gone  my  elder  brother 
told  me  I  must  be  very  careful  and  not  disturb  Harry  in  the 
night,  as  he  had  to  get  up  very  early;  in  fact  he  was  going 
to  fight  a  duel  shortly  after  daylight.  I  instantly  made  up 
my  mind  that  I  was  going  to  see  that  duel,  and  I  never 
doubted  for  a  moment  but  what  my  gallant  brother  would 
come  off  victor. 

I  was  awakened  before  day  by  a  noise  and  Harry's  jump- 
ing out  of  bed  and  hastily  dressing.  I  too  hurried  on  my 
clothes  and  followed  him  downstairs.  There  was  a  carriage 
waiting  in  front  of  the  house  in  which  were  seated  Messrs. 
Bouligny  and  Heriat.  It  was  still  very  dark,  and  as  Harry 
entered  the  carriage  I  climbed  upon  the  box  and  took  my 
seat  alongside  of  the  driver.  We  proceeded  to  the  Oaks,  a 
favorite  place  for  duels,  and  when  I  was  discovered  Mr. 
Bouligny  told  me  that  under  the  "code"  no  blood  relative 
was  allowed  to  be  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  com- 
batants, so  I  was  sent  off  to  stand  some  distance  away. 


Home-coming  in  Baton  Rouge  43 

Mr.  James  Sparks  was  my  brother's  antagonist.  One  of 
his  seconds  was  William  Howell,  a  brother  of  Mrs.  Jefferson 
Davis.  The  weapons  —  which  my  brother  chose  —  were 
double-barrel  shotguns  loaded  with  ball,  and  the  distance 
at  which  they  fought  was  twenty  paces.  They  were  placed 
in  position  and  Mr.  Bouligny  gave  the  word.  Both  guns, 
it  seemed  to  me,  went  off  simultaneously  and  Mr.  Sparks 
staggered.  All  four  seconds  ran  to  him,  and  I  fairly  flew 
to  see  what  had  happened.  My  brother  Harry  during  this 
time  was  standing  and  had  not  taken  down  his  gun  from 
his  shoulder.  Mr.  Sparks's  head  had  been  grazed  and  when  I 
had  satisfied  myself  that  he  was  not  hurt  I  turned  to  look 
at  my  brother  who  to  my  horror  was  lying  on  his  back  with 
his  gun  across  his  breast.  I  said,  "Mr.  Bouligny,  look  at 
Harry!"  The  surgeon  was  already  kneeling  by  him.  The 
bullet  had  struck  a  bone  in  his  right  arm  and  glancing  had 
entered  his  body  passing  through  his  lungs  and  penetrating 
to  his  left  side. 

One  of  Mr.  Sparks's  younger  brothers  was  a  classmate 
of  mine  at  the  Naval  Academy  and  served  gallantly  in  the 
Confederate  Navy  afterwards.  Mr.  James  Sparks,  who 
killed  my  brother,  served  through  the  long  four  years,  and 
after  the  war  was  over  he  was  found  dead  near  poor  Harry's 
grave. 

The  next  day  Judge  Morgan  and  I  took  dear  Harry's 
remains  to  Baton  Rouge.  The  steamboat  left  New  Orleans 
late  in  the  afternoon,  and  all  that  night  we  sat  by  the  coffin 
which  was  placed  on  the  lower  deck.  Each  of  us  was  wrapped 
in  his  own  sad  thoughts,  so  the  long  weary  hours  before  we 
arrived  at  Baton  Rouge  seemed  endless.  Not  that  either  of 
us  was  anxious  to  hasten  our  arrival,  for  we  knew  only  too 
well  that  we  had  a  sad  ordeal  to  go  through  when  we  met 
our  dear  father,  who  would  be  bent  with  sorrow,  and  a 
mother  whose  heart  would  be  broken.  God  help  me  —  This 
was  to  be  the  home-coming  to  which  I  had  looked  forward 
with  such  delight. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Volunteers  —  Lonely  —  Captain  Booth,  late  U.S.A.,  finds  use  for  me  — 
Pensacola  —  "Give  them  a  little  more  grape,  Captain  Bragg." 

I  found  little  change  in  the  appearance  of  Baton  Rouge 
except  that  the  once  peaceful  streets  of  the  pretty  little 
town  now  resounded  with  the  tramp  of  soldiers  who  were 
gathering  at  the  garrison  there  from  all  parts  of  the  State. 
Having  nothing  to  do  I  frequented  the  garrison  where  were 
assembled  many  of  my  old  schoolmates.  The  military  ideas 
of  these  soldiers  were  very  crude  —  very  few,  if  any,  of 
them  knew  the  manual  of  arms  and  they  insisted  on  calling 
their  colonels  and  captains,  "Billy,"  "Tommy,"  and  "John." 
As  for  the  uniforms  (?)  they  would  have  put  to  shame  an 
opera-bouffe  army.  I  remember  particularly  the  "Delta 
Rifles"  of  Baton  Rouge  whose  dress  was  much  admired  by 
the  ladies,  but  which  greatly  tickled  my  risibles.  It  was 
composed  of  some  green  gauze-like-looking  fabric,  the  tunic 
of  which,  like  the  sleeves,  was  trimmed  with  long  fringe 
which  reached  below  their  knees,  and  these  men  expected 
to  go  to  Virginia  and  possibly  spend  a  winter  amidst  its 
snows. 

The  soldiers  at  that  tirne  elected  their  own  officers,  and 
many  men  of  ability  declined  commissions,  so  that  popular 
comrades  who  were  not  financially  well  fixed  could  enjoy 
the  emoluments  appertaining  to  the  ranks  of  captains  and 
lieutenants.  But  the  Southern  soldier  was  no  fool,  and  it 
was  not  very  long  before  he  discovered  that  the  "Billy" 
and  "Tommy"  captains  were  not  the  kind  of  men  they 
wished  to  entrust  their  well-being  and  lives  to. 

The  volunteers  were  in  great  dread  that  the  war  would  be 
over  before  they  had  a  chance  to  get  into  it.  All  was  bustle 
and  excitement  around  me,  and  I  alone  seemed  to  have 


Captain  Booth  finds  use  for  me  45 

nothing  to  do.  My  favorite  pony  was  in  the  stable,  but  I 
had  lost  all  pleasure  in  riding  him  —  even  Charloe  no  longer 
chased  wild  horses.  Cousinard,  the  club-footed  town  con- 
stable, had  killed  my  bull  terrier  while  I  was  at  Annapolis, 
so  I  had  no  sympathetic  companion  to  keep  me  company. 
The  boys  I  had  formerly  played  with  seemed  to  have  dis- 
appeared as  though  by  magic.  A  cavalry  regiment  appeared 
on  the  scene  and  among  the  privates  I  saw  my  old  playmate 
and  dear  friend,  Howell  Carter,  mounted  on  a  fine  big  horse 
with  a  sabre  as  long  as  himself  tied  to  him.  Howell  was  only 
about  a  year  older  than  I,  but  he  was  big  for  his  age.  The 
authorities  seemed  to  draw  the  line  only  at  little  runts  like 
myself.  Every  one  was  either  going  to  the  war  or  had  gone. 
I  seemed  to  be  the  only  one  for  whom  there  was  no  place. 
I  was  very  disconsolate,  until  one  day  Captain  Booth,  an 
old  regular  army  officer  who  commanded  the  arsenal,  asked 
my  father  to  lend  me  to  him,  as  he  wanted  me  immediately 
for  very  important  service.  My  father  expressed  surprise  that 
one  so  young  should  be  selected  for  any  mission  of  impor- 
tance, but  Captain  Booth  reminded  him  that  I  had  had  an 
Annapolis  training  and  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  him 
to  have  some  one  who  knew  how  to  implicitly  obey  orders 
without  asking  any  questions.  My  father  consenting,  I  was 
told  to  put  a  change  of  clothes  into  a  carpet-sack  and  go 
down  to  the  wharf  boat  within  an  hour  and  there  await 
further  orders.  Captain  Booth  soon  joined  me.  An  army 
wagon  made  its  appearance  on  the  river-bank  and  four  sol- 
diers lifted  from  it  a  large  and  very  heavy  trunk  which  they 
brought  aboard  the  wharf  boat.  Captain  Booth  then  took 
me  aside  and  told  me  what  the  trunk  contained  and  handed 
me  written  instructions  and  an  order  addressed  to  all  army 
officers  and  civilian  officials  to  facilitate  and  expedite  my 
journey  in  every  possible  manner.  The  order  was  signed  by 
the  hero  of  my  childish  imagination,  General  Bragg,  of 
"Give  them  a  little  more  grape,  Captain  Bragg,"  fame. 
Captain  Booth  and  the  soldiers  remained  with  me  till  a 


46    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

steamboat  bound  for  New  Orleans  arrived,  when  the  sol- 
diers put  the  trunk  on  board,  and  Captain  Booth,  wishing 
me  Godspeed,  away  I  went  feeling  very  important. 

Arriving  at  New  Orleans,  I  had  my  trunk  put  upon  a 
truck,  and  as  my  orders  were  not  to  part  company  with  it 
under  any  circumstances,  I  sat  on  it  and  directed  the  driver 
to  proceed  to  Judge  Morgan's  house  on  Camp  Street.  I  had 
one  of  the  many  rough  rides  of  my  life  over  the  cobble  stones 
with  which  the  streets  of  the  city  of  that  day  were  paved. 
A  negro  butler  opened  the  dopr  of  the  house  for  me  and  in- 
formed me  that  the  family  were  away,  but  that  my  brother 
was  in  town  and  of  course  would  sleep  there.  With  the 
assistance  of  the  butler,  the  two  truckmen,  and  myself, 
we  managed  to  carry  the  trunk  into  the  hall  on  the  lower 
floor,  and  I  made  an  arrangement  with  the  men  to  come  for 
it  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  carry  it  to  the  station  of 
the  little  railway,  some  five  or  six  miles  long,  which  con- 
nected the  city  with  Lake  Ponchartrain  at  the  point  where 
the  boat  for  Mobile  lay.  Feeling  safe  I  then  went  upstairs 
and  went  to  bed. 

I  awoke  early  in  the  morning  just  as  the  truckmen  arrived 
in  front  of  the  house  and  one  can  imagine  my  horror  and 
distress  when  I  found  that  my  precious  trunk  had  disap- 
peared in  the  night.  I  was  a  ruined  man,  and  felt  certain 
that  my  career  was  blasted  forevermore. 

The  house  was  a  big  one  with  a  wide  hall  running  through 
its  centre,  and  my  brother's  bedroom  was  on  the  lower  floor 
and  opened  into  the  hall.  I  was  standing  there  dazed  when 
he  suddenly  made  his  appearance  and  commenced  to  scold 
me  for  my  carelessness.  To  my  amazement  he  told  me  that 
he  knew  perfectly  well  what  the  trunk  contained,  adding  that 
he  had  a  little  more  care  for  my  reputation  than  I  seemed  to 
possess,  and  that  he  had  performed  the  marvelous  feat  of 
dragging  that  trunk  into  his  bedroom  and  had  actually 
pushed  it  under  his  tall  fourposter  when  he  came  home  late 
in  the  night,  as  otherwise  burglars  might  have  carried  it 


Captain  Booth  finds  use  for  me  47 

away.  Others  possibly  knew  as  well  as  he  did  what  its  con- 
tents were.  I  was  astonished  by  his  remarks,  but  as  I  had 
orders  not  to  discuss  the  contents  of  the  trunk  with  any  one 
I  kept  silence. 

Greatly  relieved  in  my  mind  I  started  for  Mobile,  and  on 
arrival  there  showed  General  Bragg's  order  to  the  quarter- 
master officer,  who  had  my  trunk  carried  to  another  boat 
which  took  me  to  Blakely,  across  the  bay,  where  I  was  to 
take  the  stage-coach  for  Pensacola.  At  Blakely  my  serious 
troubles  began.  The  stage  agent  swore  that  under  no  cir- 
cumstances should  so  heavy  a  trunk  be  placed  in  the  boot  of 
the  old-fashioned  stage-coach.  He  would  allow  me  to  take 
passage  on  the  crowded  stage,  but  as  for  the  trunk,  "Nix!" 
There  was  a  company  of  infantry  stationed  at  Blakely,  and 
I  showed  General  Bragg's  order  to  the  captain;  and  on  his 
threat  to  seize  the  stage  and  have  one  of  his  men  take  charge 
of  it,  I  was  allowed  to  proceed,  for  about  ten  miles,  to  a 
place  where  we  changed  mules.  There  the  stage-driver  said 
the  trunk  was  fairly  killing  his  team  and  he  would  not  haul 
it  another  mile ;  it  could  come  on  sometime  in  the  dim  future 
by  wagon.  My  protests  were  in  vain,  as  several  of  the  pas- 
sengers volunteered  to  assist  him  in  dumping  it  on  the 
ground.  Fairly  desperate,  I  showed  them  the  order  of  the 
commanding  officer  of  the  district  and  made  them  quite  an 
oration,  telling  them  that  the  contents  of  the  trunk  were  of 
the  greatest  importance  to  General  Bragg,  who  had  been 
telegraphed  that  I  would  arrive  on  that  stage,  but  that  I 
would  not  accompany  them  without  my  baggage;  and  I 
wound  up  by  asserting  that  if  I  was  not  on  that  stage  when 
it  arrived  in  Pensacola  General  Bragg  would  hang  the  last 
one  of  them  for  treason. 

My  imposing-looking  official  document  and  the  fear  of  a 
military  court  martial  was  too  much  for  the  nerves  of  the 
passengers,  but  did  not  faze  the  stage-driver.  But  when 
the  passengers  refused  to  continue  the  journey  unless  the 
trunk  went  also,  he  relented.  He  took  his  revenge,  however, 


48  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

by  making  us  walk  most  of  the  forty  weary  miles,  because 
the  road  was  so  sandy. 

Arriving  at  Pensacola,  the  passengers  were  very  glad  that 
they  had  insisted  on  the  driver  bringing  my  trunk,  for  there 
waiting  for  me  was  Colonel,  afterwards  General,  Boggs, 
chief  of  staff,  and  several  other  officers,  and  a  detail  of  sol- 
diers with  an  army  wagon,  and  they  fairly  overwhelmed  me 
with  compliments.  The  colonel  said  that  General  Bragg 
wanted  to  see  me,  and  we  went  at  once  to  Fort  Barran- 
cus  where  his  headquarters  were.  The  general  told  me  he 
never  was  so  glad  to  see  anybody  before,  and  that  I  was  to 
remain  at  his  quarters  as  his  guest  until  I  returned  to  Baton 
Rouge.  The  next  day  the  Confederate  batteries  opened 
fire  on  Fort  Pickens. 

After  the  Civil  War  was  over,  Judge  Morgan,  who,  as  I 
have  before  said,  was  a  Union  man,  was  amusing  his  guests 
one  day  at  dinner  by  recounting  the  many  acts  of  folly 
of  which  he  considered  the  defunct  Confederacy  guilty, 
and  as  an  illustration  pointed  at  me  and  said,  "Do  you 
see  how  young  that  boy  looks  now?  Well,  you  can  well 
imagine  how  he  looked  at  the  age  of  fifteen  when  I  tell  you 
that  he  was  small  for  his  age.  The  Southern  troops  stationed 
at  Pensacola  early  in  the  war  became  dissatisfied  at  not 
receiving  any  pay.  The  newspapers  were  full  of  stories 
about  their  being  mutinous  on  account  of  the  Government's 
neglect,  when  the  authorities,  becoming  frightened,  to 
pacify  the  men  secretly  sent  that  child  with  a  trunk  full  of 
silver  dollars  to  be  distributed  among  them,  and  the  mere 
baby  carelessly  left  it  in  the  hall  of  my  house  where  any 
one  might  have  carried  it  off;  but  fortunately,  for  him,  he 
had  a  big  brother  who  almost  pulled  his  arms  out  of  their 
sockets  to  draw  it  to  a  place  of  safety  under  his  own  bed. 
And  a  worse  frightened  boy  than  he  was  when  he  could  not 
find  his  trunk  load  of  money  you  would  rarely  see." 

There  was  great  laughter  at  my  expense,  and  when  it  had 
somewhat  subsided,  I  asked  my  brother  if  he  knew  what 


Pensacola  49 

he  had  slept  over  that  night?  "Silver,  of  course,"  he  re- 
plied. "Well,"  I  said,  "that  memorable  night  you  slept 
over  about  three  hundred  pounds  of  powder  contained  in 
primers  and  fuses,  and  there  were  also  in  the  trunk  two 
live  shells  that  Captain  Booth  wanted  Colonel  Boggs 
to  try  in  a  particular  gun  at  Pensacola.  They  were 
good  shells,  too,  for  I  saw  both  of  them  explode  in  Fort 
Pickens." 

"Great  Heavens! "  exclaimed  the  judge ;  "and  I  examined 
the  fastenings  with  a  lighted  candle  to  see  if  they  were 
secure  before  I  went  to  bed!" 

When  I  arrived  at  Pensacola  with  the  trunk,  General 
Bragg  had  only  three  primers  to  a  gun  and  that  was  the 
reason  he  and  his  staff  were  so  glad  to  see  me. 

When  I  returned  to  New  Orleans  I  was  informed  that 
two  steamers  were  being  fitted  out  for  the  newly  organized 
Confederate  Navy  and  I  crossed  the  river  to  see  them 
where  they  lay  at  Algiers.  I  found  several  old  friends  who 
had  been  first  classmen  at  Annapolis  on  board  of  them.  One 
of  these  ships  was  a  fruiterer  called  the  Habana,  and  the 
other  was  a  former  Mexican  pirate,  called  the  Marquis  de 
la  Habana.  The  Habana  became  the  famous  Sumter  and 
the  other's  name  was  changed  to  McRae.  The  latter  vessel 
had  already  had  quite  an  exciting  career.  A  few  months 
previously,  in  company  with  a  consort,  she  had  appeared 
off  Vera  Cruz.  She  refused  to  show  her  colors  and  the  U.S. 
sloop-of-war  Saratoga  undertook  to  make  her  do  so.  She 
belonged  to  General  Miramon,  who  was  heading  a  Mexican 
revolution.  She  and  her  consort  opened  fire,  but  were  soon 
reduced  to  submission  by  the  American  ship,  but  not  before 
some  twenty-odd  men  had  been  killed  or  wounded.  A  prize 
crew  was  put  on  board  of  her  and  Lieutenant  R.  T.  Chap- 
man was  ordered  to  take  her  to  New  Orleans  and  turn  her 
over  to  the  United  States  marshal  and  make  the  charge 
against  her  of  "  Belonging  to  an  unrecognized  revolutionary 
government  and  being  a  pirate  on  the  high  seas."  Lieuten- 


50  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

ant  Chapman,  a  few  months  after  he  had  made  this  charge, 
found  himself  on  board  of  the  Sumter,  under  Captain 
Semmes,  which  vessel  belonged  to  an  unrecognized  revolu- 
tionary government  and  was  branded  as  "a  pirate  on  the 
high  seas"  by  the  United  States  Government. 


CHAPTER  VII 

The  sloop-of-war  McRae  arrives  at  Baton  Rouge  —  Receives  warrant  as  a 
midshipman  and  ordered  to  the  McRae  —  Fail  to  get  through  the  blockade  — 
Attack  on  Federal  fleet  at  the  Head  of  the  Passes  —  Heroes  until  a  newspaper 
"Mahan"  discovered  that  we  ought  to  have  towed  the  whole  Federal  fleet  up 
to  New  Orleans  in  triumph. 

The  summer  dragged  its  slow  length  into  July.  My 
brothers  Gibbes  and  George  were  by  this  time  in  Virginia, 
one  in  Blanchard's  brigade  and  the  other  with  General 
"  Dick"  Taylor's  brigade,  also  in  "Stonewall"  Jackson's  di- 
vision. Everybody,  with  the  exception  of  the  loud-mouthed 
orators,  seemed  to  have  gone  to  the  war.  The  spellbinders 
now  had  only  aged  men  and  cripples  for  audiences,  but 
they  could  always  invoke  a  feeble  cheer  by  dramatically 
exclaiming,  "One  Southern  man  can  whip  ten  Northern- 
ers." This  bold  statement  did  not  arouse  any  enthusiasm 
in  my  breast,  as  I  doubted  its  correctness.  I  had  already 
tackled  two  Yanks  with  rather  worse  than  indifferent  suc- 
cess. I  had  eight  more  coming  to  me  for  my  share,  and  as 
I  knew  a  lot  of  little  fellows  from  New  England,  with  whom 
I  had  skylarked  at  Annapolis,  without  showing  myself 
possessed  of  any  marked  physical  superiority  over  them  in- 
dividually, I  felt  justified  in  my  doubts  about  being  able  to 
manhandle  the  eight  combined. 

At  last  there  came  a  great  excitement  for  the  town,  and 
the  inhabitants,  many  of  whom  had  never  seen  an  ocean- 
going steamship,  rushed  to  the  riverside  and  there  beheld 
the  bark-rigged  Confederate  States  sloop-of-war  McRae, 
of  seven  guns,  which  had  come  up  the  river  to  receive  her 
ammunition  from  the  arsenal.  She  was  a  beautiful  sight 
as  she  lay  at  anchor  in  the  stream  with  her  tall,  graceful 
masts  and  her  yards  squared  in  man-of-war  fashion,  looking 
so  trim  and  neat. 

I  went  aboard  as  soon  as  possible  to  see  the  midshipmen, 


52    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

of  course,  and  was  most  heartily  welcomed.  As  soon  as 
the  captain  and  lieutenants  learned  that  I  had  been  at 
Annapolis,  they  too  were  very  kind  to  me,  agreeing  with  me 
that  it  was  a  shame  I  was  not  in  the  service.  Before  the  week 
was  ended  I  went  on  board  again,  and  reported  to  Captain 
Thomas  B.  Huger  for  duty.  How  that  delightful  moment 
was  brought  about  is  best  told  by  a  letter  from  my  father 
to  my  elder  brother  which  was  given  to  me  by  one  of  my 
nieces  fifty  years  afterwards:  — 

Baton  Rouge,  La.,  July  17,  1861. 
My  dear  Son:  — 

The  mail  has  arrived  without  bringing  any  letter  from  Virginia 
or  from  you.  This  has  disappointed  me  much,  as  Charles  La 
Noue  tells  me  he  saw  in  the  "True  Delta"  of  Sunday,  a  letter 
advertised  for  you  coming  from  the  First  Regiment,  Louisiana 
Volunteers.    I  presume  it  must  have  escaped  your  attention. 

It  is  now  nearly  a  month  since  I  have  heard  from  George  and  I 
am  becoming  anxious. 

On  yesterday  Jimmie's  warrant  as  midshipman  arrived,  at 
which  he  is  highly  delighted,  especially  as  Captain  Huger  on  yes- 
terday, before  the  arrival  of  the  mail,  requested  me  to  telegraph 
the  Department  that  there  was  room  for  him  on  the  McRae  and 
that  he  desired  to  have  him.  The  little  scamp  seems  to  take  the 
fancy  of  all  the  officers  he  falls  in  with;  those  on  the  McRae  seem 
to  be  very  clever,  and  the  midshipmen  are  all  acquaintances  of 
his.  .  .  .  Ever  yours, 

Thomas  Gibbes  Morgan. 

Hon.  P.  H.  Morgan, 
New  Orleans,  La. 

When  that  telegram  arrived  ordering  me  to  report  to 
Captain  Huger  for  duty  on  the  McRae,  my  joy  knew  no 
bounds,  and  rushing  to  my  room  it  took  me  about  ten 
seconds  to  remove  those  velvet  covers  from  the  brass  but- 
tons on  my  jacket,  and  in  less  than  three  minutes  more  I 
was  in  that  uniform  and  had  torn  off  the  glazed  cover  of  my 
cap  and  displayed  my  silver  anchor.  In  those  days  all  the 
naval  officers  wore  the  blue  uniforms  of  the  United  States 
Navy  which  they  had  brought  South  with  them,  and  they 


MIDSHIPMAN  JAMES    MORRIS    MORGAN,    C.S.N. 

At  the  age  of  fifteen 


Fail  to  get  through  the  Blockade    53 

kicked  like  steers  when  they  were  afterwards  compelled  to 
don  the  gray,  contemptuously  demanding  to  know,  "Who 
had  ever  seen  a  gray  sailor,  no  matter  what  nationality  he 
served?" 

I  was  in  mortal  dread  that  the  McRae  would  sail  before 
I  could  get  to  her  (she  in  fact  only  lay  there  for  ten  days 
longer),  but  it  took  me  only  about  ten  minutes  to  get  to 
the  river  where  I  commenced  frantically  to  signal  for  a 
boat.  I  must  have  been  kept  waiting  for  fifteen  minutes; 
to  me  it  seemed  an  eternity. 

Reporting,  I  was  assigned  to  my  watch  and  station,  and 
in  less  than  an  hour  was  sent  ashore,  on  duty,  in  charge  of 
the  first  cutter,  and  how  my  small  heart  swelled  with  pride 
and  how  my  fellow  townsmen's  eyes  opened  with  amazement 
as  they  heard  ''little  Jimmie  Morgan"  giving  orders  to  the 
sailors  and  their  ever  ready,  "Aye,  aye,  sir!"  in  reply. 

Having  got  our  ammunition  on  board,  at  last  we  started 
for  New  Orleans  to  fill  up  with  coal,  and  then  steamed  for 
the  mouths  of  the  river,  or  rather  to  the  "Head  of  the 
Passes,"  to  await  an  opportunity  to  run  the  blockade. 
Captain  Semmes  with  the  Sumter  had  succeeded  in  doing 
it  —  why  should  not  we  ?  But  it  was  not  to  be.  The 
passes  were  much  better  guarded  than  when  the  Sumter 
escaped.  Several  times  we  got  ready  to  attempt  the  feat 
at  night,  but  on  each  occasion  the  pilots  raised  objections, 
saying  that  the  McRae  drew  too  much  water  for  them  to 
take  the  responsibility,  or  that  they  were  not  pilots  for  the 
bar  of  the  pass  selected.  Strange  to  say,  most,  if  not  all,  the 
pilots,  were  Northern  men.  So  we  spent  weeks  laying  at 
the  Head  of  the  Passes,  or  between  there  and  Forts  Jack- 
son and  St.  Philip,  waiting  our  chance  until  our  coal  supply 
was  exhausted  and  then  we  returned  to  New  Orleans  to 
refill  our  bunkers. 

The  "  Crescent  City  "  was  gay  in  those  days,  as  the  people 
had  not  yet  realized  what  a  serious  thing  war  was,  or  what 
it  was  to  live  in  a  captured  city,  an  experience  that  was 


54    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

to  be  theirs  before  many  months  had  passed.  There  were 
balls  and  dinners  ashore,  and  the  ship  was  constantly  filled 
with  visitors. 

In  the  olden  times  little  midshipmen  were  punished  by 
being  "mastheaded,"  which  consisted  in  the  youngster  hav- 
ing to  climb  up  to  the  cap  of  the  foretopmast  and  stand 
there  with  barely  space  enough  for  his  two  little  feet,  and 
he  had  to  hold  on  to  the  stays  to  keep  from  falling.  Un- 
fortunately I  was  frequently  detected  in  some  deviltry,  and 
as  a  consequence,  passed  much  of  my  leisure  time  aloft.  I 
am  doubtful  if  I  ever  quite  forgave  our  gallant  second  lieu- 
tenant, Mr.  Eggleston,  for  saying  to  me  on  one  occasion, 
after  I  had  presented  the  first  lieutenant's  compliments  and 
requested  him  to  masthead  me,  "Well,  sir,  you  surely  ought 
to  know  the  way  up  there  by  this  time!"  —  I  always  sus- 
pected that  he  meant  to  be  sarcastic. 

Captain  Huger  was  a  very  handsome  man;  he  was  also 
a  widower,  his  late  wife  having  been  a  sister  of  General 
Meade,  U.S.A.,  of  Gettysburg  fame.  The  captain  was  at 
the  time  of  which  I  write  engaged  to  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful girls  in  New  Orleans,  so  it  was  not  strange  that  when 
lying  off  the  city  he  always  found  it  convenient  to  anchor 
the  McRae  in  front  of  Jackson  Square  because  the  Pont- 
alba  buildings  faced  the  park,  and  in  one  of  them,  near  the 
old  Cathedral  of  St.  Louis,  his  sweetheart  dwelt.  I  knew 
all  about  the  courtship  because  I  carried  so  many  notes 
from  the  captain,  and  the  young  lady  made  such  a  pet  of 
me. 

When  the  month  of  October  arrived,  it  brought  with  it 
some  excitement.  Three  towboats  and  a  river  tug  each 
armed  with  a  smooth-bore  thirty-two  pounder  had  been 
added  to  the  Confederate  fleet  on  the  Mississippi.  There 
was  also  a  tugboat,  called  the  Enoch  Train,  belonging  to 
private  parties,  who  had  covered  her  over  with  a  wooden 
turtleback  over  which  they  had  placed  railway  iron  "T" 
rails,  dovetailed,  for  an  armor.  The  patriotic  owners  wanted 


Attack  on  Federal  Fleet      55 

to  make  a  contract  with  the  Confederate  Government  (for 
a  huge  sum)  for  every  Federal  vessel  they  would  sink. 

The  United  States  fleet,  consisting  of  the  steam  sloop- 
of-war  Richmond  of  twenty-six  nine-inch  guns,  the  Preble 
and  Vincennes,  sailing  sloops-of-war  of  twenty-two  guns 
each,  and  the  Waterwitch,  a  steamer  carrying  five  guns  one 
of  which  was  a  rifle,  had  taken  possession  of  the  Head  of 
the  Passes  of  the  Mississippi  and  put  an  end  to  any  pos- 
sible blockade-running. 

Commodore  Hollins  had  now  assumed  command  of  the 
naval  defenses  of  the  Mississippi  River.  He  was  no  longer 
young,  having  been  a  midshipman  on  the  U.S.  frigate 
President  when  she  was  captured  by  a  British  fleet  in  the 
War  of  1812.  He  was  also  the  man  who  had  (in  the  U.S. 
sloop-of-war  Cyane)  bombarded  Greytown  in  Nicaragua. 
He  now  determined  to  attempt  to  drive  the  United  States 
fleet  out  of  the  river:  and  to  do  this  he  decided  to  seize  the 
ram,  now  called  the  Manassas,  which  was  anchored  in  the 
stream.  To  a  polite  request  that  she  should  be  turned 
over  to  us  came  the  reply  that  we  "did  not  have  men  enough 
to  take  her."  The  McRae  was  ranged  up  alongside  of  her 
and  a  boat  was  lowered.  Lieutenant  Warley  ordered  me  to 
accompany  him.  On  arriving  alongside  of  the  ram  we  found 
her  crew  lined  up  on  the  turtleback,  swearing  that  they 
would  kill  the  first  man  who  attempted  to  board  her.  There 
was  a  ladder  reaching  to  the  water  from  the  top  of  her 
armor  to  the  water  line.  Lieutenant  Warley,  pistol  in  hand, 
ordered  me  to  keep  the  men  in  the  boat  until  he  gave  the 
order  for  them  to  join  him.  Running  up  the  ladder,  his  face 
set  in  grim  determination,  he  caused  a  sudden  panic  among 
the  heroic  (?)  crew  of  longshoremen  who  incontinently 
took  to  their  heels  and  like  so  many  prairie  dogs  disap- 
peared down  their  hole  of  a  hatchway  with  Mr.  Warley 
after  them.  He  drove  them  back  on  deck  and  then  drove 
them  ashore,  some  of  them  jumping  overboard  and  swim- 
ming for  it.  With  the  addition  of  two  fire  rafts  our  fleet  was 


56    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

now  complete  and  we  proceeded  to  the  forts,  where  we 
anchored  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  attack  the  enemy. 
This  chance  arrived  on  the  night  of  the  12th  of  October, 
when  we  weighed  anchor  and  proceeded  down  the  river, 
the  Manassas,  under  the  command  of  Warley,  leading, 
followed  by  the  fire  rafts  in  tow  of  tugs,  the  McRae,  the 
Ivy,  the  Tuscarora,  the  Calhoun,  and  the  Jackson.  The 
Calhoun,  a  towboat,  with  a  walking-beam  engine,  was 
considered  too  vulnerable  in  her  boilers  and  machinery,  so 
she  was  ordered  to  keep  out  of  it.  The  Jackson,  a  high-pres- 
sure paddlewheel  towboat  of  great  power,  made  so  much 
noise  from  her  escape  pipes  that  she  could  be  heard  ten 
miles  away,  so  she  was  ordered  to  stay  as  far  behind  as  pos- 
sible. It  must  have  been  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  we  saw  a  rocket  go  up  which  was  the  signal  agreed 
upon  that  the  Manassas  had  rammed  something.  In- 
stantly the  heavy  broadsides  of  the  United  States  ships 
blazed  forth  as  they  shot  holes  through  the  darkness,  or,  as 
we  hoped,  through  one  another.  Our  fire  rafts  also  burst 
into  flame  and  were  floating  down  upon  them.  It  was  a 
magnificent  spectacle  to  those  of  us  who  were  a  mile 
away. 

When  daylight  came,  all  firing  ceased,  and  to  our  amaze- 
ment we  saw  the  Federal  fleet  fleeing  down  the  Southwest 
Pass,  and  the  Manassas  (which  we  had  never  expected  to 
see  again),  lying  a  helpless  wreck  in  the  marsh,  against 
which  she  had  drifted.  She  had  rammed  the  Richmond  and 
torn  off  of  that  vessel's  bow  a  couple  of  planks,  but  as  the 
Richmond  had  a  coaling  schooner  alongside,  the  speed  of 
the  ram  had  been  checked  by  the  hawser  of  the  collier  which 
was  made  fast  to  the  bow  of  the  warship.  The  cable  had 
slipped  over  the  bow  of  the  Manassas  and  mowed  off  her 
little  smokestacks  even  with  the  turtleback,  rendering  her 
helpless.  The  Richmond  had  frantically  worked  her  broad- 
side, but  the  ram  lay  so  low  in  the  water  that  all  the  pro- 
jectiles passed  over  her.    This  was  fortunate,  as  the  dense 


U.S.  SLOOP-OF-WAR   RICHMOND,   OF   FARRAGUT'S   FLEET 


C.S.    RAM   MANASSAS,  WHICH    RAMMED   THE   RICHMOND 


Attack  on  Federal  Fleet  57 

smoke  which  filled  the  Manassas  had  forced  her  crew  to  take 
refuge  on  her  deck.  The  little  ram  was  too  light  for  the  work, 
and  too  weak  in  power.  She  had  been  a  good  tug,  but  the 
weight  of  her  armor  had  completely  deadened  her  speed, 
and  while  she  did  very  well  going  downstream  she  could 
not  make  more  than  one  or  two  knots  an  hour  against  the 
current. 

"  It  is  a  poor  cock  that  won't  chase  a  fleeing  rooster."  Em- 
boldened by  the  sight  of  the  retreating  enemy  we  gave  chase. 
On  arriving  at  the  mouth  of  the  river  the  Preble  and  Water- 
witch  passed  over  the  shallow  bar  safely,  but  the  big  Rich- 
mond and  the  Vincennes  grounded,  the  latter  with  her  stern 
pointing  upstream.  The  Richmond  when  she  struck  the 
bottom  was  swung  around  by  the  current  and  presented  her 
formidable  broadside  to  us.  Outside,  in  the  Gulf,  about 
three  miles  away,  was  the  fifty-gun  sailing  frigate  Santee 
under  a  cloud  of  canvas,  sailing  back  and  forth  like  a  caged 
lion,  unable  to  get  into  the  fray  on  account  of  her  great 
draft,  but  she  made  as  glorious  a  picture  as  ever  delighted 
the  eye  of  a  sailor. 

We  opened  fire  with  our  nine-inch  pivot  gun  on  the  Rich- 
mond, but  from  a  very  respectful  distance,  as  otherwise  we 
might  have  spoiled  her  pretty  paint.  She  replied  at  first 
with  single  guns,  and  afterwards  with  broadsides,  many  of 
the  projectiles  passing  over  us.  The  Waterwitch  from  out- 
side used  a  rifled  gun,  but  her  shots  also,  fortunately  for  us, 
went  high. 

The  towboat  Ivy,  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Fry  (the 
man  who  was  some  years  later  captured  in  the  blockade- 
runner  Virginius  and  so  cruelly  put  to  death  by  the  Span- 
iards at  Santiago,  Cuba),  made  a  dash  for  the  helpless 
Vincennes,  and,  taking  up  a  position  under  her  stern,  com- 
menced to  throw  thirty-two-pound  shells,  from  her  one  little 
smooth-bore  gun,  into  the  sloop-of-war's  cabin  windows. 
Suddenly,  to  our  amazement,  we  witnessed  a  sight  the  like 
of  which  was  never  before  seen  in  the  United  States  Navy. 


58  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

The  boats  of  the  Vincennes  were  lowered  and  her  crew, 
after  putting  a  fuse  to  her  magazine,  abandoned  her,  and 
took  refuge  on  the  Richmond ! 

The  shots  from  the  Richmond,  in  her  efforts  to  protect 
the  Vincennes's  boats,  almost  drowned  the  little  Ivy  with 
spray  and  she  was  recalled. 

A  most  extraordinary  thing  had  occurred  on  the  aban- 
doned ship.  Her  cartridges  were  in  red  flannel  bags,  as  was 
the  custom  at  that  time,  and  they  were  packed  in  metal 
cylinders  about  the  size  of  barrels.  One  of  these  had  been 
emptied  and  the  fuse  end  was  placed  at  its  bottom  and  the 
powder  cartridges  replaced.  The  fuse  led  out  of  the  maga- 
zine and  up  the  hatchway  on  to  the  upper  deck  for  some  dis- 
tance. It  burned  its  way  along  the  deck  and  down  into  the 
magazine,  up  the  side  of  the  cylinder,  and  down  through  the 
spaces  between  the  cartridges  to  the  bottom  without  ex- 
ploding a  cartridge! 

Commodore  Hollins,  knowing  that  the  Richmond,  alone, 
could  whip  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  full  of  such  vessels  as  he 
commanded,  if  she  could  only  get  at  them,  withdrew  from 
action  and  proceeded  up  the  river,  taking  possession  of  three 
schooners  on  the  way  which  the  Federal  fleet  had  left  be- 
hind them  in  their  hurry  to  get  away. 

Arriving  at  the  forts  we  anchored  and  I  was  sent  up  to 
New  Orleans  as  a  bearer  of  dispatches.  The  news  of  the 
fight  had  preceded  me,  and  we  found  a  great  crowd  on  the 
levee  when  the  steamboat  made  her  landing.  For  the  only 
time  in  my  life  I  experienced  the  delights  of  having  myself 
made  into  a  hero.  When  it  became  known  to  the  crowd  that 
I  had  been  in  the  fight,  they  cheered  and  seemed  wild  with 
excitement,  but  unfortunately  for  our  glory  the  enthusiasm 
wore  off  when  a  "newspaper  admiral "  came  out  in  an  editor- 
ial denouncing  Commodore  Hollins,  stating  that  his  conduct 
was  most  reprehensible  in  that  he  had  not  brought  to  the 
city,  as  prizes,  the  whole  Federal  fleet.  I  suppose  the  frigate 
Santee,  which  drew  so  much  water  it  would  have  required  a 


Attack  on  Federal  Fleet  59 

rather  large  truck  to  have  carried  her  over  the  bar,  ought 
to  have  been  brought  also! 

I  had  the  permission  of  my  captain  to  visit  my  home  in 
Baton  Rouge  after  mailing  the  commodore's  dispatches, 
and  when  I  arrived  there  I  found  my  father  dying.  I  went 
into  his  room  and  he  made  a  sign  that  he  wanted  to  speak 
to  me.  Bending  over  him  I  placed  my  ear  close  to  his  mouth 
and  he  whispered,  "Good-night;  God  bless  you,  my  son." 
Those  were  his  last  words. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

The  McRae  made  flagship  of  the  Mississippi  flotilla  —  Commodore  Hollins 
—  Appointed  aide-de-camp  to  the  commodore  —  Island  No.  10  —  New  Ma- 
drid —  The  Swamp  Fox  of  Missouri  —  Masked  batteries  —  Wanted  to  chal- 
lenge a  major  —  U.S.  ironclads  pass  Island  No.  10  —  Stung  —  New  Madrid 
and  Island  No.  10  evacuated  —  "Savez"  Read  administers  a  lesson  in  disci- 
pline to  the  volunteers  —  Gunboats  pretty  badly  cut  up  by  shore  batteries  — 
Go  back  to  New  Orleans  —  Fort  Jackson  under  heavy  bombardment  from 
Porter's  mortar  fleet  —  Commodore  Hollins  relieved  from  his  command  — 
Farragut  passes  the  forts  —  Death  of  Captain  Huger  and  sinking  of  the 
McRae. 

Here  is  a  coronach  for  Confederate  soldiers  evidently 
written  by  an  "unreconstructed  rebel."  It  appears  on  a 
headstone  in  the  Methodist  Cemetery,  St.  Louis:  — 

Here  lize  a  stranger  braiv, 
Who  died  while  fightin'  the  Suthern  Confederacy  to  save 

Piece  to  his  dust. 

Braive  Suthern  friend 

From  iland  10 

You  reached  a  Glory  us  end. 
We  plase  these  flowrs  above  the  stranger's  hed, 
In  honer  of  the  shiverlus  ded. 

Sweet  spirit  rest  in  Heven 

Ther'l  be  know  Yankis  there. 

When  I  returned  to  the  McRae,  I  found  great  changes 
had  occurred  during  my  two  weeks'  absence.  All  idea  of 
running  the  blockade  and  going  to  sea  as  a  cruiser  had  been 
abandoned,  and  judging  from  my  later  experience  in  a 
"commerce  destroyer"  it  was  well  that  the  intention  had 
been  abandoned,  for  with  her  limited  coal  capacity,  and  her 
want  of  speed  owing  to  the  small  power  and  uncertain 
humor  of  her  gear  engines,  it  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have 
lasted  a  month  in  that  business. 

I  now  found  her  much  changed  in  outward  appearance. 
The  tall  and  graceful  spars,  with  the  exception  of  the  lower 
masts,  had  disappeared.     With  the  exception  of  Captain 


5?    "° 


Island  Number  io  6i 

Huger,  Sailing  Master  Read  ("Savez"),  and  Midshipman 
Blanc,  all  of  the  line  officers,  whom  I  loved  so  dearly,  were 
detached.  Lieutenant  Warley  was  to  command  perma- 
nently the  Manassas;  Lieutenant  Eggleston  and  Midship- 
man Marmaduke  were  to  join  the  Merrimac  at  Norfolk; 
Lieutenant  Dunnington  was  to  command  the  gunboat 
Ponchartrain ;  Midshipman  Sardine  Graham  Stone  was  to 
go  to  the  cruiser  Florida;  and  Midshipman  Comstock  was 
to  go  to  the  gunboat  Selma,  on  board  of  which  he  was  cut 
in  two  by  a  shell  at  the  battle  of  Mobile  Bay ;  and  I  was  ap- 
pointed aide-de-camp  to  Commodore  Hollins,  whose  flag- 
ship the  McRae  was  to  be. 

Three  river  steamboats  had  been  converted  into  men-of- 
war  by  having  their  luxurious  cabins  removed  and  their 
boilers  protected  by  iron  rails.  They  each  carried  four  guns 
—  three  forward  and  one  aft  —  and  there  had  also  been 
built  (from  designs  by  a  locomotive  roundhouse  architect, 
I  suppose)  the  most  wonderful  contraption  that  ever  was 
seen  afloat,  called  the  Livingston.  She  carried  six  guns, 
three  forward  and  three  abaft  the  paddleboxes,  and  she  was 
almost  circular  in  shape.  She  was  so  slow  that  her  crew 
facetiously  complained  that  when  she  was  going  down- 
stream at  full  speed  they  could  not  sleep  on  account  of  the 
noise  made  by  the  drift  logs  catching  up  with  her  and 
bumping  against  her  stern.  These  boats,  with  the  Ivy  and 
the  tug  Tuscarora,  constituted  our  fleet. 

Information  reached  us  that  a  number  of  real  ironclads 
which  the  Federal  Government  was  building  at  St.  Louis 
and  on  the  Ohio  River  were  completed  and  were  about  to 
come  down  the  river. 

The  Confederates  hastily  fortified  Island  Number  io,  a 
few  miles  above  New  Madrid,  Missouri,  and  at  the  latter 
place  had  built  two  forts  (Bankhead  and  Thompson).  Our 
fleet  was  ordered  to  make  all  haste  up  the  river  to  assist 
them  in  preventing  the  Federal  fleet  from  coming  down. 

On  the  way  up  the  river  our  first  disaster  happened,  when 


62    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

on  a  dark  and  foggy  night  we  rammed  the  plantation  of 
Mr.  Jefferson  Davis,  President  of  the  Confederacy.  For  this 
heroic  performance,  it  is  needless  to  say,  none  of  us  were 
promoted,  and  we  lay  ingloriously  stuck  in  the  mud  until 
we  were  pulled  off  by  a  towboat.  Disaster  number  two 
came  when  we  were  passing  Helena,  Arkansas,  —  the 
Tuscarora  caught  fire  and  was  destroyed. 

Day  after  day,  with  our  insufficient  power  and  great 
draft,  we  struggled  against  the  mighty  current  of  the  Missis- 
sippi, occasionally  bumping  into  a  mud  bank  and  lying 
helpless  there  until  we  were  pulled  off.  At  the  cities  of  Vicks- 
burg  and  Memphis  we  received  ovations.  The  dear  people 
were  very  enthusiastic,  and  knowing  nothing  about  naval 
warfare,  they  felt  sure  we  could  whip  the  combined  fleets 
of  the  universe. 

When  we  finally  arrived  at  Island  Number  10,  we  found 
a  lively  bombardment  going  on.  It  was,  however,  decided 
that  we  should  drop  down  to  New  Madrid  to  assist  in  the 
defense  of  that  city. 

The  winter  of  1861-62  was  a  very  cold  and  bleak  one  in 
that  part  of  the  country,  and  for  several  weeks  the  monot- 
ony of  our  lives  was  broken  only  by  the  sound  of  the  distant 
booming  of  the  guns  at  Island  Number  10. 

The  McRae  had  been  laid  alongside  the  river-bank  at  the 
head  of  the  main  street  of  the  town  and  the  muzzles  of  her 
guns  were  just  above  the  levee,  thus  giving  us  the  whole 
State  of  Missouri  for  a  breastwork. 

Everything  seemed  to  be  very  peaceful  until  one  day  a 
solitary  horseman  made  his  appearance  galloping  at  full 
speed.  He  stopped  when  he  arrived  opposite  the  McRae, 
and  shouted  from  the  shore  that  he  wanted  to  see  Commo- 
dore Hollins.  The  commodore,  who  was  standing  on  the 
deck,  asked  him  what  he  wanted,  and  the  excited  cavalier 
shouted  back:  "I  am  General  Jeff  Thompson,  the  swamp 
fox  of  Missouri.  There  are  a  hundred  thousand  Yankees 
after  me  and  they  have  captured  one  of  my  guns,  and  if  you 


Masked  Batteries  63 

don't  get  out  of  this  pretty  quick  they  will  be  on  board  of 
your  old  steamboat  in  less  than  fifteen  minutes! "  Just  then 
another  man,  apparently  riding  in  a  sulky,  between  the 
shafts  of  which  was  hitched  a  moth-eaten  mule,  appeared 
on  the  scene.  On  closer  inspection  it  was  discovered  that 
he  was  sitting  astride  of  a  small  brass  cannon  which  was 
mounted  on  a  pair  of  buggy  wheels.  This  piece  of  ordnance 
was  scarcely  three  feet  long.  The  general  gazed  on  it  admir- 
ingly, and  for  our  information  said:  "That  is  a  one-pounder 
—  I  invented  it  myself.  The  Yanks  have  got  its  mate,  and 
if  you  don't  get  out  of  this  they  will  hammer  you  to  pieces 
with  it."  By  this  time  there  was  great  commotion  in  the 
two  forts  —  seeing  which  General  Jeff  Thompson,  nodding 
his  head  at  the  commodore,  said,  "So  long!"  and  galloped 
away.   That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him  in  that  campaign. 

As  the  gallant  "swamp  fox"  disappeared  in  the  distance, 
the  gun's  crew  of  his  one-gun  battery  resignedly  observed, 
"I  can't  keep  up  with  Jeff";  and  brought  down  his  thong 
on  the  mule's  bony  back,  and  the  poor  beast  leisurely  walked 
away. 

Above  New  Madrid  a  bayou  emptied  itself  into  the  river. 
It  meandered  through  a  swamp  for  miles  into  the  interior 
and  was  supposed  to  be  impassable  by  troops,  but  General 
Pope  and  his  thirty  thousand  men  had  accomplished  the 
feat  and  taken  New  Madrid  in  the  rear.  His  army  was 
marching  boldly  up  to  our  lines,  and  had  they  kept  on  they 
would  have  taken  the  place  at  once;  but  when  the  McRae's 
big  nine- inch  Dahlgren  gun  opened  on  them  at  long  range, 
they  stopped  and  proceeded  to  lay  siege  to  it.  It  was  evi- 
dently intended  that  they  would  take  the  place  by  regular 
approaches  and  the  dirt  commenced  to  fly  while  the  artil- 
lery kept  up  a  desultory  fire. 

The  Confederate  forts  were  situated  at  each  end  of  the 
town  and  the  flotilla  of  gunboats  lay  between  them.  Un- 
fortunately the  McRae's  battery  was  the  only  one  mounted 
at  a  sufficient  height  above  the  river-bank  to  fire  over  it 


64    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

while  at  the  same  time  using  it  for  a  breastwork ;  the  other 
boats  had  to  lie  out  in  the  stream  where  they  were  very 
much  exposed  to  the  enemy's  fire. 

Some  three  thousand  raw  recruits  formed  the  garrisons 
and  manned  the  trenches  which  connected  the  forts.  The 
forts  had  been  built  with  regard  to  commanding  the  river 
and  were  very  weak  on  the  land  side. 

Day  by  day  the  Union  troops  drew  nearer  and  the  firing 
increased  in  fury.  Commodore  Hollins  sent  me  frequently 
with  communications  to  General  Bankhead,  who  com- 
manded our  land  forces.  One  day,  when  the  firing  was 
particularly  furious,  I  was  sent  with  one  of  these  missives 
and  found  General  Bankhead  on  the  firing  line.  Shells  were 
bursting  frequently  in  unpleasant  proximity  to  where  he 
was  standing  with  his  field-glasses  pressed  to  his  eyes.  Just 
behind  him  stood  several  officers.  I  saluted  the  General 
and  handed  him  the  envelope.  He  told  me  to  wait  until  he 
could  send  back  an  answer.  As  I  joined  the  group  of  officers 
I  distinctly  heard  a  major  say,  "What  a  damned  shame  to 
send  a  child  into  a  place  like  this! "  The  other  officers  must 
have  noticed  that  my  dignity  was  offended,  for  they  spoke 
very  kindly,  but  I  could  not  get  over  the  insult  —  it  stuck 
in  my  gorge.  I  was  so  mad  I  could  hardly  speak.  Returning 
to  the  ship  I  at  once  consulted  my  friend,  the  first  lieuten- 
ant, who  was  now  Mr.  Read  ("Savez"),  on  the  propriety 
of  sending  the  major  a  challenge,  but  "Savez"  soothed  my 
wounded  feelings  by  telling  me  that  "the  commodore  would 
not  approve  of  such  action  and  anyhow  I  need  not  mind 
what  the  major  said,  as  he  was  nothing  but  a  damned  sol- 
dier, and  a  volunteer  at  that,  and  of  course  did  not  know 
any  better." 

The  enemy  got  to  the  river-bank  below  us  and  a  new 
danger  menaced  us.  They  prevented  our  transports  from 
coming  up  the  stream.  The  levees  were  breastworks  ready- 
made,  and  day  after  day  our  gunboats  had  to  go  down  to 
clear  them  out.  We  would  be  drifting  down  the  apparently 


Island  Number  io  65 

peaceful  river,  when  suddenly  a  row  of  tall  cottonwood  sap- 
lings would  make  us  a  graceful  bow  and  fall  into  the  stream 
as  a  dozen  or  more  field  pieces  poured  a  galling  broadside 
into  us.  Of  course,  with  our  heavy  guns  we  would  soon 
chase  them  away,  but  only  to  have  them  reappear  a  mile 
above  or  below  in  a  little  while,  and  then  the  same  thing 
had  to  be  gone  through  again.  Later  they  brought  up  some 
heavy  guns  and  then  we  had  some  really  good  tussles  with 
them. 

Our  troops  were  forced  back  until  they  were  under  cover 
of  the  forts,  leaving  the  space  between,  which  was  the  aban- 
doned town,  to  be  protected  by  the  guns  of  the  McRae.  I 
was  standing  by  the  commodore  on  the  poop  deck  watch- 
ing the  firing  when  we  saw  a  light  battery  enter  the  other 
end  of  the  main  street.  Our  nine-inch  gun  was  trained  on 
them,  and  when  it  was  fired  the  shell  struck  the  head  of  the 
column  and  burst  in  about  the  middle  of  the  company. 
To  see  horses,  men,  and  guns  cavorting  in  the  air  was  a 
most  appalling  sight.  Flushed  with  success  the  officer  in 
charge  of  the  gun  reloaded  and  tried  another  shot,  when 
the  gun  exploded,  the  muzzle  falling  between  the  ship's 
side  and  the  river-bank,  while  one  half  of  the  great  breech 
fell  on  the  deck  beside  its  carriage.  The  other  half  went 
away  up  into  the  air  and  coming  down  struck  the  rail  be- 
tween the  commodore  and  myself  and  cut  the  side  of  the 
ship,  fortunately  glancing  out  instead  of  inside.  The  com- 
modore coolly  remarked,  "Youngster,  you  came  near 
getting  your  toes  mashed!" 

We  had  a  rough  little  steam  launch,  about  twenty-five 
feet  in  length,  which  acted  as  a  tender  to  the  McRae,  and 
as  our  gunboats  were  makeshift  ones,  they  were  not  pro- 
vided either  with  signals  or  any  place  to  fly  them  from.  I 
used  this  launch  to  convey  to  them  the  flag  officer's  orders. 
The  commodore  suspected  that  the  enemy  were  fortifying 
the  point  above  us  which,  if  done,  would  have  cut  us  off 
from  communication  with  Island  Number  10  which  was 


66    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

making  a  heroic  defense  and  preventing  the  Union  iron- 
clads from  coming  down  and  annihilating  our  little  mosquito 
fleet.  So  he  sent  me  on  a  reconnaissance,  cautioning  me  to 
be  careful  and  not  approach  too  close  to  the  point  until  I 
was  satisfied  there  was  no  battery  there. 

The  launch  had  no  deck  and  consequently  her  little 
boiler  and  engine  were  all  exposed  to  the  weather.  Her 
crew  consisted  of  a  fireman  from  the  McRae  and  a  sailor 
to  steer  her.  I  proceeded  to  the  point  keeping  well  out  in  the 
stream,  but  saw  nothing  suspicious.  Being  of  a  curious 
turn  of  mind  I  wanted  to  see  what  was  around  the  river 
bend,  so  kept  on.  As  we  turned  the  point  my  helmsman  ex- 
claimed, "The  Tom  Benton!"  The  Tom  Benton  was  the 
largest  Union  ironclad  on  the  river  and  all  ironclads  were 
"Tom  Bentons"  to  us.  Sure  enough,  across  the  next  bend 
we  saw  a  column  of  black  smoke,  evidently  issuing  from 
the  funnel  of  a  steamer  and  we  turned  tail  and  ran  for  the 
McRae  with  all  speed  possible.  As  we  passed  the  point, 
which  I  had  previously  satisfied  myself  was  absolutely 
harmless,  the  small  cottonwood  trees  fell  into  the  river  and 
a  battery  opened  on  us,  one  of  the  shells  exploding  as  it 
struck  the  water,  drenching  us.  But  our  noble  craft  kept 
on  her  way,  the  engineer  by  this  time  having  tied  down  the 
safety-valve.  Arriving  within  hailing  distance  of  the  flag- 
ship, I  sang  out  "Tom  Benton  coming  down,  sir!"  Com- 
modore Hollins  being  on  deck  shouted  back,  "Come 
aboard,  sir"!  —  My  chief  engineer  gasped  out,  "For  God's 
sake,  don't  stop,  sir;  she  will  blow  up!"  We  ran  around 
the  McRae  while  the  officer  of  the  deck,  and  it  seemed  to 
me  everybody  else,  was  shouting,  "Come  aboard!"  The 
safety-valve  by  this  time  had  been  unlashed  and  she  was 
blowing  off  steam,  while  the  whirling  engine  was  also  using 
up  as  much  of  the  surplus  as  possible  as  around  and  around 
we  went,  while  the  commodore  was  stamping  on  the  deck 
and  fairly  frothing  at  the  mouth.  At  last  —  it  seemed  to 
me  an  age  —  the  engineer  pronounced  it  safe  to  stop,  and 


New  Madrid  67 

we  went  alongside  the  flagship.  As  I  stepped  on  to  the  quar- 
ter deck,  Commodore  Hollins  demanded  to  know  why  I 
had  disobeyed  his  instructions  and  gone  around  the  point. 
Hesitatingly  I  answered,  "I  thought,  sir  — "  But  I  got 
no  farther,  as  the  commodore  interrupted  me  with  "You 
thought,  sir!  You  dared  to  think,  sir!  I  will  have  you  un- 
derstand I  am  the  only  man  in  this  fleet  who  is  allowed  to 
think!"  I  was  so  badly  scared  that  probably  that  awful 
interview  with  the  commodore  was  the  reason  I  was  never 
afterwards  so  thoughtless. 

The  Federal  ironclad,  not  knowing  our  weakness,  after 
she  had  run  by  the  Island  Number  10  batteries  in  the  night, 
was  quietly  waiting  at  her  anchors  for  her  consorts  to  do 
likewise  before  attacking  us. 

The  houses  of  New  Madrid  interfered  with  our  fire. 
They  were  just  as  their  owners  had  left  them  when  they  fled 
in  such  haste  that  they  had  not  time  to  move  their  furni- 
ture or  belongings,  and  it  had  up  to  this  time  seemed  a 
pity  to  destroy  them,  but  now  they  had  been  riddled  by 
shells  and  were  very  much  in  the  way.  The  commodore 
sent  for  me  one  night  and  ordered  me  to  take  a  detail  of 
men  and  go  ashore  and  set  fire  to  the  town.  I  begged  him 
not  to  send  me  and  told  him  the  history  of  the  place,  and 
how  in  1787  the  King  of  Spain  had  given  my  great-grand- 
father, Colonel  George  Morgan,  formerly  of  the  Revolu- 
tionary Army,  a  grant  of  land  comprising,  according  to 
Gayarre,  in  his  history  of  Louisiana,  some  seventeen 
millions  of  acres,  and  how  my  ancestor  had  founded  the 
city  of  New  Madrid  on  it,  and  that  it  would  be  dreadful 
for  me  to  have  to  destroy  it.  The  old  commodore  simply 
remarked  that  it  would  be  a  singular  coincidence  and  that 
it  was  all  the  more  appropriate  that  I  should  destroy  my 
ancestor's  town. 

I  went  ashore  with  a  number  of  men  all  provided  with 
matches  and  fat-pine  torches.  The  wind  was  blowing 
toward  the  river  and  we  sneaked  along  in  the  darkness  until 


68    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

we  arrived  at  the  last  houses  in  the  suburbs.  I  then  remem- 
bered that  in  my  frequent  visits  to  the  army  headquarters 
I  had  noticed  a  barn  that  was  filled  with  straw  situated 
some  two  hundred  yards  beyond  the  last  house  in  an  open 
field.  I  knew  that  the  enemy's  pickets  were  very  near  and 
did  not  like  to  send  one  of  my  men  to  set  it  on  fire,  so  I  gave 
them  instructions  to  wait  until  I  myself  touched  it  off  or  the 
pickets  commenced  to  shoot  and  then  to  set  fire  to  every- 
thing within  reach  as  rapidly  as  possible.  I  knew  little  of 
the  effects  of  lights  and  shadows.  I  made  my  way  out  to  the 
barn  all  right  and  found  the  straw  bulging  out  of  a  window 
well  within  my  reach.  I  struck  a  match  and  applied  it  to 
the  straw  with  the  result  that  a  mass  of  flame  instantly 
leaped  many  feet  above  the  roof,  and  the  minie  bullets 
commenced  to  sing  like  so  many  big  mosquitoes  around  my 
ears.  I  fled  toward  my  comrades.  I  don't  think  I  ever  ran 
so  fast  in  my  life  as  I  did  on  that  occasion.  I  was  fairly 
flying  when  I  felt  a  sting  in  the  upper  part  of  my  left  arm, 
and  I  also  distinctly  remembered  that  I  exclaimed,  "Thank 
God,  it  is  not  in  one  of  my  legs!"  The  only  effect  of  the 
shot  was  to  increase  my  speed,  if  that  was  possible:  the 
bullet  had  only  grazed  my  arm.  A  line  of  houses  were  in 
flames  by  the  time  I  rejoined  my  men.  The  wind  fanned  the 
flames  and  the  light  exposed  us  to  the  fire  of  the  enemy, 
but  we  succeeded  in  reaching  the  ship  without  the  loss  of 
a  man.  I  had  undone  the  work  of  my  ancestor,  and  I  was 
not  particularly  proud  of  the  job. 

A  few  days  after  this  adventure  things  at  New  Madrid 
came  to  a  head.  We  were  cut  off  from  Island  Number  10 
by  the  ironclad,  and  the  batteries  below  cut  us  off  from  com- 
munication with  the  lower  river.  We  commanded  only  the 
little  stretch  along  which  our  gunboats  lay.  Our  soldiers 
were  completely  demoralized  and  it  was  decided  to  evacu- 
ate New  Madrid.  At  midnight  the  gunboats  were  brought 
alongside  the  bank,  gangplanks  were  put  out,  and  we  had 
not  long  to  wait  before  the  terrified  troops,  every  man  for 


A  Lesson  in  Discipline  69 

himself,  rushed  aboard  the  smaller  gunboats  in  the  greatest 
disorder.  They  at  once  rushed  to  the  side  farthest  from  the 
enemy,  and  in  doing  so  almost  capsized  the  topheavy  and 
cranky  little  Ivy. 

But  it  was  a  different  thing  with  the  McRae,  where  they 
found  a  sentry  at  the  gangway  who  ordered  them  to  halt. 
They  raged  and  swore  and  openly  threatened  to  rush  the 
sentry,  but  at  that  moment  the  gentle  "Savez"  Read  ap- 
peared on  the  scene  and  told  the  men  that  if  they  came  on 
board  it  would  have  to  be  in  an  orderly  manner  as  soldiers, 
and  not  as  a  mob.  At  this  the  men  commenced  to  threaten 
him,  but  he  only  asked  them  where  their  officers  were,  and 
was  told  that  they  did  not  care  a  rap  where  they  were,  but 
that  they  were  coming  aboard.  By  this  time  Read  had  gone 
ashore  and  was  standing  amongst  them.  He  quietly  asked 
them  to  be  silent  for  a  moment,  and  then  inquired  who 
was  their  head  man.  A  big  fellow,  with  much  profanity 
said  he  "had  as  much  to  say  as  any  other  man."  Instantly 
Read's  sabre  flashed  out  of  its  scabbard  and  came  down  on 
the  head  of  the  mutineer,  felling  him  to  the  ground,  as  in  a 
thunderous  voice  the  usually  mild  "Savez"  roared,  "Fall 
in!"  —  and  the  mob  ranged  themselves  in  line  like  so  many 
lambs  and  were  marched  quietly  across  the  gangplank  and 
on  to  the  ship. 

We  carried  the  frightened  creatures  across  the  river  to 
the  Tennessee  side  and  put  them  ashore  at  Point  Pleasant, 
some  two  or  three  miles  below  New  Madrid,  and  near  Tip- 
tonville.   That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  them. 

The  garrison  of  Island  Number  10  also  escaped,  but  some 
five  hundred  of  them  were  afterwards  captured.  I  mention 
this  fact  because  these  men  composed  the  ten  thousand 
prisoners  General  Pope  telegraphed  Washington  that  he  had 
taken  in  his  great  victory.  All  the  Northern  newspapers 
published  this  dispatch  at  the  time  and  made  such  a  hero  of 
Pope  that  he  was  shortly  afterwards  placed  in  command  of 
the  Army  of  the  Potomac,  with  what  result  history  records. 


70    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

My  brother-in-law,  the  late  Brigadier-General  R.  C.  Drum, 
who  was  adjutant-general  of  the  United  States  Army  for 
many  years,  told  me  that  he  had  frequently  seen  that 
dispatch  in  the  archives  of  his  office,  but  some  years  after 
he  was  retired,  General  Pope  denied  that  such  a  paper 
existed  and  dared  the  newspaper  reporters  to  produce  it. 
They  were  allowed  to  search  the  archives,  but  it  was  not  to 
be  found. 

We  lay  for  several  days  at  anchor  near  Tiptonville, 
expecting  every  moment  that  the  Federal  ironclads  would 
come  down  and  attack  us,  but  they  did  not  put  in  an  appear- 
ance before  we  left.  Nevertheless,  we  received  a  very  un- 
pleasant surprise  one  morning  while  we  were  at  breakfast 
when  the  cottonwood  trees  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river 
suddenly  tumbled  down  and  a  long  line  of  guns  opened  fire 
on  us.  We  got  up  our  anchors  as  quickly  as  possible  and 
went  into  action,  with  the  result  that  our  flotilla  suffered 
considerably.  The  first  disaster  happened  when  a  shell 
burst  in  the  pantry  of  the  Livingston  and  smashed  all  of 
Commander  Pinckney's  beautiful  chinaware  of  which  he 
was  very  proud.  The  General  Polk  then  received  several 
shells  in  her  hull  on  the  water  line  and  was  run  ashore  to 
keep  her  from  sinking,  and  the  other  boats  were  cut  up  con- 
siderably, but  running  close  in  to  the  masked  batteries  the 
grape  and  canister  from  our  big  guns  caused  the  enemy 
to  limber  up  and  disappear.  Commodore  Hollins  said  "the 
campaign  had  taught  him  one  thing  and  that  was  that  gun- 
boats were  not  fitted  for  chasing  cavalry." 

It  was  at  Tiptonville  that  Commodore  Hollins  received  a 
message  from  the  senior  naval  officer  at  New  Orleans  beg- 
ging him  to  bring  his  gunboats  as  quickly  as  possible,  as  it 
was  certain  that  Admiral  Farragut  would  soon  try  to  dash 
by  Forts  Jackson  and  St.  Philip.  No  one  knew  the  danger 
better  than  the  old  commodore  did.  Ordering  his  flagship 
to  follow,  he  went  on  board  of  the  fast  Ivy  accompanied  by 
his  small  aide,  and  we  started  at  full  speed  for  New  Orleans. 


Fort  Jackson  under  Bombardment  71 

At  Fort  Pillow  we  stopped  so  that  the  commodore  could 
send  a  telegram  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  asking  him  to 
order  all  the  gunboats  to  follow  him.  I  also  carried  a  com- 
munication to  General  Villapigue,  the  commander  of  Fort 
Pillow,  telling  him  of  the  fall  of  Island  Number  10  and 
New  Madrid,  and  advising  him  to  prepare  for  an  attack  by 
the  enemy's  ironclads.  We  also  stopped  at  Baton  Rouge, 
where  I  took  ashore  more  telegrams  for  the  Navy  Depart- 
ment at  Richmond,  for  the  capital  had  been  removed  to 
that  city  by  this  time.  The  authorities  at  Richmond,  like 
swivel-chair  naval  strategists  all  over  the  world,  differed 
entirely  with  the  naval  officers  as  to  what  was  best  to  be 
done  with  the  gunboats  and  never  sent  them  any  instruc- 
tions at  all. 

Arriving  at  New  Orleans,  Commodore  Hollins  made  his 
headquarters  at  the  old  St.  Charles  Hotel,  and  I  was  imme- 
diately sent  down  to  the  forts  with  a  communication  for 
General  Duncan,  who  was  in  command,  in  which  the  com- 
modore asked  the  general  where  he  would  like  the  gun- 
boats placed  for  the  coming  fight  and  suggesting  the  head 
of  the  reach  above  the  forts  as  the  most  effective  position 
for  them  to  take  up. 

I  found  on  my  arrival  that  Fort  Jackson  was  undergoing 
a  most  terrific  bombardment  from  Commander  Porter's 
mortar  fleet  which  was  hidden  behind  the  trees  around  the 
bend  below.  The  air  was  full  of  shells  and  the  fort  was  full 
of  smoke  from  their  explosions. 

Accompanying  Commander  Kennon,  captain  of  the  Gov- 
ernor Moore,  we  crossed  the  bridge  over  the  moat  which  was 
the  only  means  of  access  to  the  old-fashioned  brick  fortress. 
As  we  walked  a  shell  fell  into  the  moat  and  gave  us  a  dirty 
shower  bath,  at  the  same  time  disturbing  several  large  alli- 
gators who  lashed  the  water  furiously  with  their  tails.  En- 
tering through  the  sallyport  we  saw  no  one  but  a  solitary 
sentry,  as  the  whole  garrison  was  gathered  in  the  casemates 
to  protect  them  from  the  mortar  fire.    The  fort  was  filled 


72         Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

with  debris.  However,  we  had  a  very  pleasant  dinner  with 
General  Duncan,  after  which  I  returned  to  New  Orleans. 

I  found  the  commodore  busy  with  the  preparations  of 
the  Louisiana,  a  most  marvelous  craft  shaped  like  a  huge 
square  box.  From  her  midship  section  aft  she  divided  into 
two  hulls  and  between  them  were  placed  two  paddlewheels, 
one  large  and  one  small,  the  smaller  one  being  placed  in 
front  of  the  big  ones,  so  as  to  insure  the  latter's  working  in 
a  mill-race  when  both  were  turning  at  the  same  time.  On 
her  sides  were  iron  rails  for  an  armor.  At  her  trial  trip  it 
was  found  that  it  was  with  difficulty  she  kept  up  with  the 
current  when  going  downstream,  and  when  pointed  up- 
stream she  was  carried  down  at  the  rate  of  two  or  three 
knots  an  hour.  Towed  back  to  the  wharf,  two  engines  from 
little  tugs  were  placed  aboard,  one  in  each  of  her  sterns. 
This  increased  power  was  not  perceptible,  and  as  she  would 
not  steer,  she  was  towed  down  the  river  and  moored  to  the 
bank  where  she  served  as  an  additional  fort. 

The  other  ironclad  was  a  magnificent  vessel.  She  had 
real  plates  for  her  armor  and  they  were  of  great  thickness. 
She  had  great  power,  having  triple  screws,  and  her  battery 
was  to  consist  of  eighteen  of  the  heaviest  guns.  Had  she 
been  completed  in  time,  she  would  have  been  like  a  bull 
in  a  china  shop  among  Admiral  Farragut's  light  wooden 
sloops-of-war.  But  the  great  admiral  knew  as  much  about 
her  as  we  did  and  had  no  intention  of  postponing  his  attack 
until  she  was  finished. 

Our  gunboats  from  up  the  river  had  not  arrived,  —  they 
never  did,  — ■  but  instead  were  run  into  the  various  tribu- 
taries of  the  lower  Mississippi  and  destroyed  by  their  own 
crews.  I  cannot  say  that  they  would  have  stopped  Admiral 
Farragut's  fleet,  but  their  eighteen  guns  would  have  made 
it  more  interesting  for  him  when  he  passed  the  forts. 

All  was  work  and  hurry  preparing  for  the  great  fight  when 
one  morning  I  went  into  the  commodore's  room  and  found 
the  old  gentleman  seated  by  his  work-table  holding  a  tele- 


Death  of  Captain  Huger  73 

gram  in  one  hand  while  his  head  was  bowed  in  evident  dis-r 
tress.  When  he  became  aware  of  my  presence  he  raised  his 
head  and  proffering  the  telegram  said,  "Read  this."  If  the 
message  had  been  sent  to  a  cabin  boy  it  would  have  been 
sufficiently  curt  to  have  wounded  his  feelings.  It  read: 
"  Report  in  Richmond  in  person  and  give  an  account  of  your 
conduct"  —  signed,  "S.  R.  Mallory,  Secretary  of  the 
Navy."  On  arriving  at  Richmond  a  court  of  inquiry  on  his 
conduct  was  held,  and  as  New  Orleans  had  fallen,  of  course 
he  was  acquitted. 

Admiral  Farragut's  victory  is  a  matter  of  history.  The 
McRae  was  in  the  thick  of  the  fight.  Her  sides  were  riddled 
and  the  heavy  projectiles  knocked  her  guns  off  the  carnages 
and  rolled  them  along  the  deck  crunching  the  dead  and 
wounded.  Her  deck  was  a  perfect  shambles.  Captain  Huger 
was  struck  in  the  groin  by  a  grapeshot  and  afterwards  his 
temple  was  laid  open  by  a  canister  bullet.  When  taken 
below  he  pleaded  with  Mr.  Read,  saying,  "  Mr.  Read,  don't 
surrender  my  little  ship.  I  have  always  promised  myself 
that  I  would  fight  her  until  she  was  under  the  water! "  And 
right  gallantly  did  "Savez"  Read  keep  his  word  to  his 
stricken  captain,  for  when  day  broke  the  McRae  was  the 
only  thing  afloat  with  the  Confederate  flag  flying.  Admiral 
Farragut,  with  his  flagship  the  Hartford,  was  by  this  time 
at  the  Quarantine  Station,  about  four  miles  above  the  forts. 
Read  sent  the  only  boat  he  had  that  would  float  over  to  the 
Hartford  to  tell  Admiral  Farragut  the  condition  of  his  ves- 
sel and  the  difficulty  he  was  having  to  keep  her  afloat  — 
that  he  did  not  have  a  gun  left  on  a  carriage,  and  no  one  to 
care  for  his  dying  captain  or  the  many  other  wounded. 
Admiral  Farragut  asked  why  he  did  not  haul  his  flag  down 
and  was  told  of  the  promise  to  the  captain.  Admiral  Far- 
ragut then  sent  word  to  Read  to  bring  the  McRae  along- 
side the  Hartford,  and  then  gave  him  permission  'to  proceed 
to  New  Orleans,  saying  that  he  would  tell  him  there  what 
disposition  he  would  make  of  the  ship.  When  she  arrived  at 


74  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

New  Orleans  the  McRae  was  leaking  like  a  sieve;  the  ex- 
hausted remnant  of  the  crew  refused  to  continue  at  the 
pumps,  and  as  the  last  wounded  men  were  taken  out  of  the 
ship  —  down  she  went. 

Admiral  Dewey,  the  admiral  of  the  United  States  Navy, 
was  a  shipmate  of  Read's  on  board  of  the  frigate  Powhatan 
when  the  war  broke  out,  and  at  the  battle  of  New  Orleans 
was  the  executive  officer  of  the  frigate  Mississippi  which  was 
afterwards  sunk  at  Port  Hudson.  The  admiral  told  me  that 
Read  had  not  acted  fairly  about  the  sinking  of  the  McRae 
and  escaping  himself,  as  he  had  cut  the  sea-pipes  to  hasten 
her  foundering.  But  the  McRae  did  not  go  down  with  her 
flag  flying,  for  just  as  her  spanker  gaff  was  about  to  disap- 
pear beneath  the  muddy  waters  of  the  Mississippi,  a  boat 
from  one  of  the  Federal  men-of-war  (already  arrived  oppo- 
site the  city)  dashed  up  to  the  sinking  ship  and  removed 
the  flag  from  its  proud  position  at  the  peak. 

Commodore  Hollins  I  saw  once  again  after  the  war  was 
over  —  it  was  at  Charleston,  South  Carolina  in  1867.  This 
fine  old  gentleman  and  able  seaman,  who  had  commanded 
fleets  in  the  United  States  Navy  as  well  as  in  the  Confed- 
eracy, and  who  had  been  the  honored  guest  of  royalty,  was 
then  in  command  of  a  miserable  little  coaster  trading  be- 
tween Baltimore  and  Charleston.  He  died  a  few  years 
afterwards  while  holding  the  position  of  "crier"  of  a  minor 
court  in  Baltimore.  A  like  fate  was  the  lot  of  many  of  the 
officers  who  resigned  from  the  old  navy  to  serve  the  Confed- 
eracy. 


CHAPTER  IX 

Farragut's  fleet  at  New  Orleans  —  Mob  threatens  to  kill  his  officers  who 
demand  the  surrender  of  the  city  —  Farragut  threatens  to  destroy  the  city  if 
a  hair  of  their  heads  is  hurt  —  Pierre  Soule's  hypnotic  forefinger  saves  the 
critical  situation  —  I  take  to  the  swamp  —  The  "  Irreconcilable  Home  Guard  " 
i —  Reach  General  Lovell's  camp  at  Amite  —  Reach  Norfolk  in  time  for  the 
evacuation  —  Richmond  —  The  battle  between  the  U.S.  Ironclads  Galena, 
Monitor,  and  Naugatuck  and  Drewry's  Bluff  batteries  —  Battle  of  Seven 
Pines  (Fair  Oaks)  —  Seven  Days'  Battle. 

Admiral  Farragut's  fleet  was  anchored  in  line  in  front 
of  New  Orleans.  He  sent  Captain  Bailey  and  his  flag  lieuten- 
ant on  shore  to  demand  the  surrender  of  the  city.  The 
mayor  received  them  at  the  Mint,  a  public  building  situ- 
ated on  Esplanade  Street,  near  the  river.  I  saw  a  great 
crowd  gather  in  front  of  the  place  of  meeting  and  heard  the 
threats  made  that  they  were  going  to  kill  the  Federal  officers 
when  they  came  out.  The  mob  little  knew  that  the  sailors 
of  the  fleet  were  standing  with  lanyards  in  hand  and  that 
the  great  guns  were  trained  on  the  city  as  well  as  on  them- 
selves. They  were  also  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  Admiral 
Farragut  had  sworn,  if  a  hair  on  the  heads  of  his  officers 
was  hurt,  he  would  not  leave  two  stones  on  top  of  each 
other  in  the  city  of  New  Orleans. 

The  mob,  which  was  composed  of  men  who  had  funked 
going  to  the  front,  seemed  determined  to  bring  destruction 
on  themselves  as  well  as  on  the  innocent  women  and  chil- 
dren of  the  place.  How  to  get  the  Federal  officers  out  of  the 
building  after  the  meeting  and  thus  avoid  disaster  was  the 
question  which  agitated  the  city  officials  when  Mr.  Soul6, 
formerly  a  United  States  Senator,  and  also  United  States 
Minister  to  Spain,  came  to  their  rescue.  He  was  the  pos- 
sessor of  wonderful  eloquence  and  a  hypnotic  forefinger. 
He  told  the  mayor  that  he  believed  he  could  hold  the  atten- 
tion of  the  mob  while  the  naval  officers  were  passed  out  of 
a  back  door.   He  appeared  on  the  portico  and  was  received 


76    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

with  cheers.  He  raised  his  arm  and  that  magic  forefinger 
commenced  to  tremble  and  there  was  instant  silence.  I 
thought  the  finger  would  never  stop  trembling,  but  it  was 
evident  that  as  long  as  it  did  so  it  fascinated  the  attention 
of  the  crowd.  I  don't  remember  what  he  said,  but  I  do 
recollect  that  he  commenced  his  speech  with  the  words, 
"Sons  of  Louisiana,"  when  at  last  he  broke  the  silence  with 
his  wonderful  and  sonorous  voice,  which  had  a  strong 
French  accent.  Long  before  he  had  finished  talking  the 
United  States  officers  were  safely  back  on  board  of  the 
Hartford.  New  Orleans  never  paid  her  debt  to  Mr.  Soule. 
It  is  appalling  to  think  of  the  havoc  a  few  hundred  bushels 
of  grapeshot  scattered  amongst  that  mob  would  have 
wrought,  to  say  nothing  of  the  destruction  of  the  old  city. 

Leaving  the  Mint,  Mr.  Soule  proceeded  to  the  telegraph 
office  and  wired  the  provost  marshal  at  Vicksburg  to  arrest 
the  Tift  brothers,  the  contractors  who  had  built  the  formid- 
able ironclad  Mississippi,  charging  them  with  treason  for 
having  destroyed  that  vessel  and  ordering  them  to  be  con- 
fined in  prison.  This  order  was  carried  out,  although  at  the 
time  Mr.  Soul6  occupied  no  office  either  civil  or  military 
under  the  Confederacy,  and  despite  the  fact  that  Captain 
St.  Clair  was  on  board  of  the  same  steamboat  with  the 
Tifts  when  it  arrived  at  Vicksburg  and  assured  the  provost 
marshal  that  the  Mississippi  had  been  burned  by  his,  St. 
Clair's,  orders  when  he  found  it  impossible  to  tow  her  up 
the  river  on  account  of  her  size,  as  he  wished  to  prevent  her 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy. 

I  had  neither  ambition  nor  desire  to  take  a  trip  North 
or  to  spend  an  indefinite  time  in  a  Northern  prison,  so  with 
all  speed  I  hied  me  unto  the  country  behind  the  city,  where 
I  found  a  train  waiting  on  a  siding,  and  with  neither  money 
nor  ticket  and  without  invitation  I  boarded  it  without  the 
least  idea  of  where  I  was  going  —  and  I  did  not  care  much 
so  long  as  my  destination  was  outside  of  the  limits  of  the 
city  where  I  was  born. 


General  Lovell's  Camp  77 

I  found  the  train  crowded  with  a  lot  of  prosperous  and 
ponderous  old  gentlemen  who  were  members  of  the  "Home 
Guard,"  clothed  in  every  conceivable  garb,  except  that  of  a 
soldier  — ■  each  one  of  them  being  hampered  by  a  musket 
which  he  did  not  know  how  to  handle.  They  were  all  swear- 
ing by  a  multitudinous  variety  of  strange  gods  that  death 
was  preferable  to  existence  under  the  detested  Yankee's 
rule.  At  the  first  stop  at  Manchac  Pass  it  was  noticed  that 
their  numbers  perceptibly  decreased,  and  after  passing  the 
second  station  there  was  plenty  of  room  in  the  coaches  and 
some  people  had  even  a  whole  seat  to  themselves.  We 
arrived  at  Amite,  where  I  had  once  been  at  school,  and  we 
detrained.  General  Lovell,  who  commanded  the  troops, 
had  determined  to  make  this  place  his  headquarters  and 
already  there  was  quite  a  large  camp  there.  The  remnant  of 
the  "Home  Guard"  stood  the  rigors  of  camp  life  for  a  day 
or  two,  and  then,  deciding  that  the  duty  of  a  home  guard 
was  to  guard  his  home,  silently  and  singly,  without  consult- 
ing their  superiors,  they  sneaked  off  to  count  how  many 
railroad  ties  there  were  between  Amite  and  their  home  com- 
forts. It  was  afterwards  said  that  the  wretched  condition 
of  Napoleon's  soldiers  on  the  retreat  from  Moscow  was  not 
a  circumstance  to  the  plight  in  which  these  fat  old  gentle- 
men arrived  at  their  comfortable  mansions  in  New  Orleans, 
convinced  that  the  killing  of  Yankees  was  work  fitted  only 
for  butchers. 

We  spent  several  days  at  Amite  waiting  for  transporta- 
tion farther  north.  I  say  "we,"  because  on  the  train  I  had 
met  Commander  Pegram  and  a  number  of  naval  officers 
who  were  to  have  been  attached  to  the  ill-fated  Mississippi. 
Among  these  officers  was  gallant  Clarence  Cary,  who  was 
to  become  my  lifelong  friend,  and  Frank  Dawson,  who  was 
eventually  to  become  my  brother-in-law.  These  officers  had 
recently  made  a  sensational  dash  through  the  blockade  in 
the  Nashville,  and  they  were  now  on  their  way  to  Norfolk  for 
further  orders.  A  waif  myself,  I  decided  to  join  their  party. 


78    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

The  trains  in  the  Confederacy  were  not  allowed  to  run 
faster  than  ten  miles  an  hour,  and  the  particular  train  on 
which  we  traveled  to  Virginia  broke  down  every  few  miles, 
so  1  doubt  if  we  even  averaged  that  slow  speed.  There  were 
so  many  soldiers  on  the  train  that  it  was  difficult  to  get 
refreshments  at  the  various  little  stations,  and  on  this  jour- 
ney I  had  my  first  experience  in  going  hungry  for  more  than 
twenty-four  hours  at  a  time,  but  as  I  was  ill  and  suffering 
from  old-fashioned  chills  and  fever,  which  I  had  contracted 
on  the  lower  Mississippi,  I  don't  remember  that  I  missed 
the  food  greatly. 

Arriving  at  Norfolk  I  parted  with  my  compagnons  de 
voyage  and  went  on  board  of  the  Merrimac  on  which  I  knew 
two  of  my  old  shipmates  on  the  McRae  were  serving  — 
Lieutenant  Eggleston  and  Midshipman  Marmaduke.  It 
was  only  recently  that  the  Merrimac  had  been  engaged  in 
her  great  fights  in  Hampton  Roads.  I  gazed  with  admiration 
on  the  shot-holes  in  her  armor  and  felt  sure  that  she  could 
whip  anything  afloat,  and  I  believe  her  officers  and  crew 
thought  so  too.  I  little  dreamed  that  before  many  hours 
she  was  to  be  ingloriously  destroyed  by  her  own  crew  on 
account  of  her  drawing  too  much  water  to  go  up  the  James 
River. 

Mr.  Eggleston  advised  me  to  go  at  once  and  report  to 
Captain  Sidney  Smith  Lee,  the  elder  brother  of  General 
Robert  E.  Lee,  who  was  in  command  of  the  naval  station, 
and  ask  him  for  orders.  As  I  passed  through  the  streets  on 
my  way  I  saw  many  batteries  of  artillery  and  regiments  of 
infantry  hurrying  in  one  direction  and  accompanied  by 
trains  of  wagons.  When  I  came  into  the  presence  of  Captain 
Lee,  before  I  had  a  chance  to  say  a  word  he  demanded  to 
know  what  I  was  doing  there.  When  I  told  him  that  I  was 
a  fugitive  from  New  Orleans,  his  whole  manner  changed 
and  he  said,  "You  appear  to  be  ill,  sir."  I  replied,  "Chills 
and  fever,  sir."  And  the  next  moment  he  said,  "You  must 
leave  here  at  once;  this  place  is  being  evacuated!"   I  asked 


Richmond  79 

him  where  I  should  go,  and  he  replied,  "Any  place  so  that 
you  get  out  of  here."  And  then  turning  to  a  clerk  he  told 
him  to  make  out  an  order  for  transportation  for  me  to 
Richmond. 

On  my  way  to  and  at  the  station,  I  saw  many  queer 
sights.  There  were  orderly  commands  marching  out  of  the 
place  and  disorganized  mobs  of  men  in  uniform  who  were 
free  from  all  restraint  and  discipline.  At  one  place  a  gang 
of  men  were  trying  to  put  a  heavy  piece  of  artillery  on  a 
light  spring  wagon  drawn  by  one  horse!  I  don't  think  they 
succeeded  in  doing  it,  but  I  did  not  wait  to  see  the  result  of 
their  labors.  At  the  station  there  was  a  crowd  of  civilians, 
and  piles  of  household  goods;  also  many  pretty  and  jolly 
girls  who  seemed  to  regard  the  matter  as  a  picnic  devised  to 
amuse  them.  Government  mules  were  being  driven  by  in 
droves  scattering  the  crowd  in  every  direction.  There  were 
crates  containing  pigs  and  chickens  blocking  the  way,  and 
everything  seemed  to  be  in  inconceivable  confusion  — 
infantrymen  with  arms,  and  infants  in  arms,  jostling  each 
other.  One  poor  old  stout  woman  carrying  her  baby  was 
anxiously  searching  for  her  baggage  and  only  found  some- 
body else's  lost  four-year-old  boy  who  clung  to  her  skirts 
with  such  a  grip  that  she  could  not  shake  him  off.  Every- 
body was  in  a  hurry  to  get  to  some  place,  but  few  seemed  to 
know  what  the  name  of  the  place  was. 

After  a  most  uncomfortable  journey  I  arrived  in  Rich- 
mond. I  had  noticed  in  Norfolk  that  people  looked  at  me 
askance,  if  not  with  real  enmity  expressed  in  their  glances  in 
my  direction,  but  that  was  nothing  in  comparison  to  the  gruff 
way  I  was  treated  in  Richmond  if  I  dared  ask  a  stranger  to 
direct  me  on  my  way.  It  did  not  take  me  long  to  find  out 
the  cause  —  it  was  my  blue  uniform  with  the  United  States 
naval  buttons.  The  gray  uniform  for  naval  officers  had  not 
reached  New  Orleans  before  its  fall,  but  the  blue  was  an 
unusual  sight  in  Richmond  except  when  it  was  worn  by  a 
Union  soldier  who  was  a  prisoner.    I  was  told  that  but  for 


80  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

my  youth  and  small  stature  I  might  have  been  roughly 
handled.  However,  I  soon  got  rid  of  the  hated  blue,  as  I 
had  a  little  money  due  me  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  meet 
Paymaster  Semple,  a  son-in-law  of  ex- President  Tyler,  with 
whom  I  had  been  shipmates  for  a  time  on  board  of  the  Mc- 
Rae.  He  advanced  me  on  my  pay  and  I  was  soon  arrayed  in 
gray  like  the  rest.  ■ 

I  was  a  very  lonely  little  boy  in  Richmond  for  a  few  days. 
Louisiana  was  farther  away  in  those  days  than  it  is  in  these 
of  fast  express  trains,  and  somehow  I  was  made  to  feel  as 
though  I  was  a  foreigner.  I  suppose  that  was  on  account  of 
our  accent  being  different  from  that  of  other  Southerners. 
It  was  only  a  few  years  ago  in  Washington  when  I  was  in- 
troduced to  a  Southern  lady,  my  only  recommendation  being 
that  I  was  a  Confederate  veteran,  that  she  looked  at  me 
doubtfully  and  said,  "Mr.  Morgan,  I  can't  believe  that  you 
are  a  Southerner ;  you  neither  look  nor  talk  like  any  South- 
erner I  ever  met  before."  I  replied,  "Madam,  I  can  assure 
you  that  had  I  been  born  any  farther  south  than  I  was,  I 
would  have  had  to  come  into  this  world  either  as  a  pom-, 
pino  or  a  soft-shell  crab,  for  the  hard  ground  stops  where 
I  was  born  in  the  southern  part  of  Louisiana!" 

When  I  received  my  orders  they  were  to  the  naval  battery 
at  Drewry's  Bluff,  seven  miles  below  Richmond  on  the 
James  River  —  a  place  of  great  natural  strength.  Pits  were 
dug,  wooden  platforms  were  built  at  the  bottom  of  them, 
and  the  guns  were  mounted  on  navy  carriages  with  all  their 
blocks  and  tackle  such  as  were  used  on  board  of  the  men-of- 
war  of  that  day.  It  was  manned  by  sailors  principally  from 
the  gallant  crew  of  the  Merrimac.  The  river  had  been  bar- 
ricaded by  sinking  in  the  channel  the  ocean-going  steamship 
Jamestown  and  several  steamboats  besides  crates  made  of 
logs  and  filled  with  stone,  leaving  only  a  narrow  passage- 
way for  our  own  boats.  It  was  while  there  that  I  witnessed 
a  most  magnificent  exhibition  of  coolness  and  nerve  — 
Commander  John  Rodgers,  U.S.N.,  had  been  ordered  to 


Ironclads  and  Drewry's  Bluff  Batteries    8i 

test  the  new  ironclad  under  his  command  to  find  out  whether 
she  was  shot-proof  or  not.    Her  name  was  the  Galena. 

It  was  about  eight  o'clock  on  the  morning  of  the  16th  of 
May,  1862,  that  we  saw  a  squadron  consisting  of  the  Galena, 
the  original  Monitor  (the  one  that  fought  the  Merrimac), 
the  ironclad  Naugatuck,  and  two  wooden  gunboats  coming 
up  the  river,  and  our  drums  beat  to  quarters  while  we  rushed 
to  our  stations  at  the  guns.  Neither  Commander  Farrand, 
who  commanded  at  Drewry's  Bluff,  nor  Commander  Rodg- 
ers,  who  commanded  the  Federal  squadron,  seemed  in  any 
hurry  to  open  fire,  so  we  in  the  battery  waited  patiently 
at  our  silent  guns  while  the  Galena  came  up  to  within  four 
hundred  yards  of  us  accompanied  by  the  Monitor,  the  rest 
of  the  squadron  remaining  below  the  bend  seeking  its  pro- 
tection from  our  plunging  fire.  The  Monitor  also  dropped 
below,  as  her  flat  decks  made  her  particularly  vulnerable. 
The  Galena  quietly  and  peacefully,  as  though  no  enemy 
was  within  miles  of  her,  let  go  her  anchor.  She  then  got  out 
a  hawser  which  sailors  call  a  "spring,"  and  made  it  fast 
to  her  anchor  chain.  Paying  out  her  cable  she  swung  across 
the  stream,  which  brought  her  broadside  to  bear  on  us. 
Down  the  river-bank,  hidden  by  the  bushes,  were  two  or 
three  thousand  Confederate  infantrymen. 

Commander  Rodgers  was  most  leisurely  in  his  move- 
ments. At  last  he  fired  a  shot  to  get  our  range;  there  were 
no  range-finders  in  those  days,  and  it  could  only  be  found 
by  experiment.  That  gun  was  the  signal  for  the  fun  to  com- 
mence. It  was  not  necessary  for  us  to  find  the  range,  as 
from  our  great  height  we  had  only  to  fire  down  on  him ; 
our  guns  were  depressed  to  such  an  extent  that  we  had  to 
put  grommets  of  rope  over  our  round  projectiles  to  keep 
them  from  rolling  out  of  the  muzzles.  The  shot  from  the 
Galena  was  our  signal  to  open  fire,  and  for  three  hours  we 
were  at  it  hammer  and  tongs.  The  Galena  was  perforated 
twenty-two  times  without  counting  the  shots  which  struck 
her  without  going  through  her  armor.   The  riflemen  on  the 


82  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

river-bank  fairly  rained  bullets  at  her  portholes,  one  of 
which  became  jammed,  and  when  a  sailor  put  his  arm  out- 
side in  an  attempt  to  free  it,  the  limb  fell  into  the  river 
amputated  by  musket  balls.  The  wooden  gunboats  around 
the  bend  also  suffered  the  loss  of  several  men. 

Although  we  were  supposed  to  be  safe  in  our  covered  gun 
pits  perched  so  high  on  the  bluff,  all  had  not  been  cakes  and 
ale  with  us.  Several  men  had  been  killed  and  wounded; 
among  them  my  classmate  at  Annapolis,  Midshipman 
Carroll,  of  Maryland,  had  been  literally  cut  in  two  by  a 
shell. 

When  Commander  Rodgers  had  satisfied  himself  that  the 
Galena  was  not  shot-proof,  he  weighed  his  anchor  as  delib- 
erately as  though  he  was  about  to  leave  a  friendly  port,  and 
dropped  slowly  and  in  a  most  dignified  way  down  the  river. 
He  had  lost  many  men  in  killed  and  wounded.  Commander 
Rodgers,  in  his  report  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  says: 
"The  result  of  our  experiment  with  the  Galena  I  enclose. 
We  demonstrated  that  she  is  not  shot-proof;  balls  came 
through  and  many  men  were  killed  with  fragments  of  her 
own  iron.  .  .  .  The  Galena  should  be  repaired  before  send- 
ing her  to  sea." 

Sailors  are  a  generous  lot  and  admire  gallantry  whether 
shown  by  friend  or  foe,  and  the  men  in  the  gun  pits  at 
Drewry's  Bluff  gave  hearty  cheers  for  the  Galena  as  she 
drew  out  of  action. 

Historians  seem  to  be  ignorant  concerning  the  impor- 
tance of  this  fight.  At  the  time  there  was  nothing  between 
Richmond  and  the  Federal  squadron  but  the  guns  of 
Drewry's  Bluff.  A  passage  had  purposely  been  left  through 
the  obstructions  in  the  river  for  our  own  boats  and  it  was 
sufficiently  wide  and  deep  for  the  Federal  vessels  to  have 
passed  through.  McClellan's  army  was  within  a  few  miles 
of  the  capital,  and  if  Commander  Rodgers's  squadron  had 
not  been  stopped  by  the  naval  battery  there  was  nothing 
else  to  prevent  them  from  going  on  to  Richmond. 


U.S.   IRONCLAD   GALENA 


_--"--   j  ■  •___ 


C.S.    IRONCLAD   CHICORA 
On  which  the  author  served  at  Charleston 


Battle  of  Seven  Pines  83 

General  Joe  Johnston's  army  was  now  at  Richmond, 
and  I  obtained  a  short  leave  to  go  to  the  city  to  see  my 
brother  George  who  was  a  captain  and  acting  quartermas- 
ter in  Blanchard's  Louisiana  brigade.  I  accompanied  him 
to  the  front  and  found  many  friends  among  the  Louisiana 
boys.  There  was  with  the  brigade  a  light  battery,  in  which 
there  were  many  young  men  from  Baton  Rouge,  and  one 
day,  while  a  number  of  us  were  sitting  at  the  foot  of  a  large 
tree,  in  fancied  security,  and  watching  a  captive  balloon 
belonging  to  the  enemy,  bullets  began  to  rattle  against  the 
trunk  of  the  tree,  and  we  got  away  from  there  as  quickly  as 
possible.  Horses  were  rapidly  hitched  to  the  caissons,  the 
guns  were  limbered  up,  and  the  battery  dashed  off  to  an- 
other part  of  the  field.  The  picket  firing  by  that  time  had 
increased  until  it  had  become  a  constant  rattle  sounding 
somewhat  like  the  roll  of  hundreds  of  snare  drums. 

Blanchard's  brigade  was  in  Huger's  division  on  the  ex- 
treme right  of  our  army.  I  made  my  way  to  the  camp  of 
the  First  Louisiana,  which  I  found  under  arms.  Their  part 
in  the  battle  of  Seven  Pines,  or  Fair  Oaks,  as  the  Federals 
called  it,  had  begun.  The  regiment  advanced  and  I  followed 
on  behind  until  suddenly  I  saw  an  officer  riding  up  to  where 
General  Blanchard  and  his  staff  were  seated  on  their  horses. 
Before  he  reached  them  his  horse  suddenly  reared  and  in 
that  instant  I  recognized  my  brother.  The  horse  fell  dead, 
and  when  I  came  up  I  found  he  was  lying  on  one  of  George's 
legs  and  that  George  could  not  extricate  himself.  It  was  a 
big  undertaking  for  me,  but  I  managed  to  move  the  fore 
shoulder  of  that  horse  far  enough  to  free  my  brother.  He 
was  quite  severely  hurt  and  had  to  be  removed  to  the  rear. 
That  was  all  I  saw  of  the  battle  of  Seven  Pines.  Could  I 
have  seen  what  was  going  on  on  the  other  side,  I  should 
have  beheld  my  dear  cousin,  Colonel  A.  S.  M.  Morgan, 
being  borne  off  the  field  —  shot  through  both  hips,  while 
gallantly  leading  his  regiment,  the  Second  Pennsylvania. 

I  accompanied  my  brother  to  Richmond  where  he  was 


84    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

carried  to  the  most  fashionable  hostelry  in  the  city,  the 
old  Spotswood  Hotel,  and  I  remained  there  for  several  days 
with  him.  The  doors  of  the  bedrooms  on  the  corridors  were 
mostly  kept  open  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  game  of  poker 
was  going  on  in  every  room.  The  lobby  of  the  hotel  was 
crowded  with  officers,  most  of  whom  carried  an  arm  in  a 
sling.  The  cause  of  this  was  the  wearing  of  the  flaring  gold 
chevrons  on  their  sleeves  to  indicate  their  rank.  They 
made  beautiful  targets  for  the  sharpshooters;  but  not  for 
long,  as  later  in  the  war  even  generals  wore  only  three  small 
stars  on  their  coat- collars. 

Passing  through  the  lobby  one  morning  I  met  an  old 
acquaintance,  a  Louisiana  Zouave,  dressed  in  red  Turkish 
trousers  with  a  short  blue  jacket  elaborately  trimmed  with 
yellow  braid  —  of  course  he  too  had  an  arm  in  a  sling.  He 
stopped  me  and  asked  if  I  had  seen  the  "zoozoo"  fight  — 
he  was  very  enthusiastic  and  very  excitable.  "Oh!"  said 
he,  in  broken  English,  "You  ought  to  see  ze  zoozoo  fight. 
Colonel  Copin  he  draw  his  long  sabre  and  say,  'Charge!' 
We  charge  and  we  charge  right  on  top  ze  Yankee  breast- 
work ;  Yankee  drop  down  and  say  '  quatta ! ' '  quatta ! '  I  say, 
'No  quatta  fer  Bootla  [Butler]:  I  stick  he  wid  de  bay- 
onette!'"  Those  Acadians  imagined  that  they  were  only 
engaged  in  a  holy  crusade  against  the  tyrant  of  New 
Orleans. 

My  brother  George  thought  that  a  little  trip  to  the  hills 
would  benefit  my  health,  and  as  he  had  heard  that  "Stone- 
wall" Jackson's  division  was  at  Gordonsville,  he  furnished 
me  with  the  means  to  go  there  where  I  would  be  with  my 
brother  Gibbes,  then  a  captain  in  the  Seventh  Louisiana 
Regiment.  I  found  him  flushed  with  victory,  having  just 
returned  from  the  marvelous  Shenandoah  Valley  campaign 
in  which  Jackson  had  fought  so  many  battles  in  so  few 
weeks,  and  he  seemed  very  proud  to  belong  to  Jackson's 
"foot  cavalry."  To  my  great  delight  I  found  my  brother's 
young  and  beautiful  wife  with  him.    It  was  no  uncommon 


At  Drewry's  Bluff  85 

thing  at  that  time  for  the  wives  of  officers  to  follow  their 
husbands  so  as  to  be  near  the  battle-fields.  Unfortunately 
for  me,  my  pleasure  at  being  with  my  favorite  brother  and 
his  wife  was  of  short  duration,  as  in  a  few  hours  after  my 
arrival  in  Gordonsville,  Jackson's  "foot  cavalry"  moved 
on,  and  I  returned  to  Richmond. 

On  my  arrival  in  Richmond  I  saw  several  thousand  Union 
prisoners,  guarded  by  Confederates,  seated  on  the  ground, 
resting  themselves.  Few  if  any  of  them  could  speak  English 
and  the  most  accomplished  linguists  among  them  could 
only  say,  "I  fights  mit  Sigel." 

At  Drewry's  Bluff  we  lived  in  tents  and  were  very  com- 
fortable. Parties  composed  of  ladies  and  gentlemen  would 
frequently  visit  the  Bluff  and  they  made  it  quite  gay;  be- 
sides, by  this  time,  quite  a  large  number  of  midshipmen 
were  stationed  there  and  they  made  it  lively  for  their 
superior  officers  as  well  as  for  themselves.  I  had  while  there 
an  interesting  experience  in  steering  the  boat  from  which 
Commander  Matthew  F.  Maury  buoyed  the  places  in  the 
river  where  he  afterwards  had  placed  what  were  probably 
the  first  floating  mines  used  in  war.  We  called,  them  "spar 
torpedoes"  as  the  mines  were  attached  to  an  anchored  and 
floating  spar. 

I  shall  never  forget  a  very  unpleasant  hour  in  connection 
with  these  mines.  Colonel  Page,  a  former  officer  of  the 
navy,  who  looked  to  be  about  seven  feet  high,  wanted  to 
go  from  Drewry's  Bluff  to  Chapin's  Bluff,  a  fortification 
that  he  commanded,  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  and 
about  a  mile  below.  I  was  ordered  to  take  charge  of  the 
boat  that  was  to  take  him  to  his  post  because  it  was  sup- 
posed I  knew  where  the  mines  were.  It  was  a  dark  night, 
but  we  got  on  all  right  for  some  distance.  Suddenly  the 
side  of  the  boat  grated  against  something  and  the  boat 
slightly  careened.  Colonel  Page,  whose  sobriquet  in  the 
navy  was  "Ramrod"  on  account  of  his  erect  bearing,  and 
who  was  well  known  in  the  service  as  a  very  strict  disci- 


86    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

plinarian,  exclaimed,  "What  is  that? — I  thought  you  knew 
where  the  torpedoes  were."  "Yes,  sir,"  I  replied,  "that 
is  one  of  them."  There  was  silence  in  the  boat  until  we 
reached  the  little  wharf  at  Chapin's  Bluff,  and  when  Colonel 
Page  disembarked  he  expressed  his  opinion  of  me  and  my 
professional  accomplishments  in  language  which  left  noth- 
ing for  the  imagination  to  work  on.  Had  the  boat  been  a 
little  heavier  we  should  all  have  gone  to  heaven  by  the  most 
direct  route. 

"Stonewall"  Jackson's  army  came  down  from  the  Valley 
and  joined  General  Lee.  I  went  over  to  the  camp  of  the 
Seventh  Louisiana  to  see  my  brother  Gibbes,  and  while  I 
did  not  participate  in  any  of  the  battles  of  the  "Seven 
Days,"  I  saw  some  of  the  fighting.  One  day  McClellan  sent 
an  ammunition  train,  with  a  fuse  attached  to  it,  down  the 
railroad  tracks  —  of  course  it  was  running  "wild."  Jack- 
son's division,  thinking  that  it  carried  reinforcements, 
rushed  for  the  railroad  intending  to  fire  into  it  as  it  passed, 
but  while  they  were  some  distance  away  the  train  exploded 
destroying  many  windows  in  Richmond,  several  miles  away. 
For  two  or  three  days  after  the  explosion  a  negro  boy  who 
waited  on  my  brother  and  the  officers  of  his  company  was 
not  to  be  found.  This  boy  had  always  bragged  that  in 
action  he  was  to  the  front,  and  continually  boasted  about 
the  number  of  Yankees  he  had  killed.  When  he  finally 
turned  up  and  was  asked  the  meaning  of  his  long  absence, 
he  replied:  "Mass'  Gibbes,  I  stood  their  shot  and  shell  and 
bullets,  but  when  it  came  to  shootin'  a  whole  train  of  cars 
at  one  poor  nigger  I  tell  you  de  truf,  sah,  I  done  lit  out  right 
dar  and  den!" 

At  this  time  I  had  been  detached  from  Drewry's  Bluff 
and  was  on  board  of  the  gunboat  Beaufort,  a  small  river 
tug  about  forty  feet  long  and  carrying  one  small  gun  on  her 
forecastle;  her  complement  consisted  of  two  officers  and 
eight  men  —  she  was  crowded.  This  little  boat  had  covered 


Naval  Discipline  87 

herself  all  over  with  glory  when  the  Merrimac  sank  the  frig- 
ates Congress  and  Cumberland.  The  Beaufort  was  then 
commanded  by  Lieutenant  William  H.  Parker,  and  it  was 
to  the  Beaufort  that  the  Congress  surrendered.  She  was 
now  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Sharp,  who  had  many 
other  duties  to  attend  to  at  the  ordnance  works  and  else- 
where, so  that  he  was  very  little  on  board  his  ship(?). 

We  were  lying  alongside  the  river-bank  at  Rockett's  (the 
lower  end  of  Richmond)  one  day,  when  my  brother  Gibbes 
made  me  a  visit.  We  were  cozily  chatting  about  home  when 
a  quartermaster  poked  his  head  in  at  the  little  cabin  door 
and,  saluting,  said,  "Jurgenson  has  come  aboard,  sir."  I 
replied,  "Very  good,  quartermaster."  The  man  then  said, 
"Jurgenson  is  drunk  and  noisy,  sir."  I  said,  "Tell  Jurgen- 
son  to  turn  into  his  bunk  and  keep  quiet."  There  was  an 
awful  din  going  on  forward  and  the  quartermaster  came 
back  and  reported  that  the  man  would  not  keep  quiet.  "All 
right,"  I  said,  "tell  the  master-at-arms  to  put  him  in  double 
irons  and  gag  and  buck  him  unless  he  stops  his  racket." 
The  quartermaster  saluted  and  again  withdrew.  Gibbes 
looked  at  me  with  amazement  and  asked  me  if  it  was  possi- 
ble that  a  little  boy  like  myself  had  authority  to  order  such 
severe  punishment.  I  told  him  that  I  was  not  a  little  boy 
on  that  boat,  but  for  the  moment  I  was  her  commanding 
officer.  He  then  expressed  doubts  as  to  whether  the  master- 
at-arms  would  obey  the  order  and  wanted  me  to  go  outside 
with  him  and  see.  I  declined,  on  the  ground  that  it  might 
look  as  though  I  doubted  if  my  orders  would  be  carried 
out,  and  Gibbes  went  forward  to  see  for  himself.  He  came 
back  shortly  shaking  his  head  and  said  that  he  must  return 
to  his  command,  as  he  wanted  to  tell  the  boys  what  he  had 
seen  that  day.  I  tried  to  make  him  understand  that  I  had 
not  indulged  in  any  cruelty  on  my  own  part,  but  that  in  the 
navy  every  misdemeanor  had  its  punishment  set  forth  in 
the  Regulations  and  that  I  was  liable  to  punishment  myself 
if  I  did  not  carry  out  the  orders.   I  told  him  that  Jurgenson 


88  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

was  an  old  man-of-warsman  and  knew  as  well  if  not  better 
than  I  what  was  going  to  happen  if  he  did  not  obey  the 
order  to  keep  silence  and  behave  himself.  I  could  not  make 
Gibbes  believe  that  I  was  very  fond  of  old  Jurgenson;  that 
he  was  one  of  the  best  men  in  the  ship,  and  that  he  would 
have  lost  all  respect  for  me  if  I  had  not  carried  out  the  disci- 
pline of  the  service ;  that  I  was  going  to  have  the  gag  taken 
out  of  his  mouth  as  soon  as  he  stopped  yelling.  It  was  all  of 
no  avail,  my  gallant  volunteer  brother  left,  still  shaking  his 
head  and  repeating,  "I  must  go  back  and  tell  my  boys 
what  I  have  seen  this  day."  That  was  the  last  time  I 
ever  saw  my  brother. 


CHAPTER  X 

Charleston  —  Commodore  Ingraham  —  C.  S.  Ironclad  Chicora  —  The  loot- 
ing of  my  home  in  Baton  Rouge  —  George  Hollins  dies  of  yellow  fever  —  The 
Honorable  George  A.  Trenholm  —  Naval  officers  "never  unbutton  their  coats" 
—  Ordered  abroad. 

With  all  my  State  pride,  I  must  acknowledge  that  the 
article  of  chills  and  fever  handed  to  me  on  the  James  River 
was  superior  to  the  brand  on  the  lower  Mississippi,  and, 
complicated  by  chronic  dysentery,  so  sapped  my  strength 
that  the  doctor  ordered  me  to  show  myself  at  the  Navy 
Department  and  ask  for  orders  to  some  other  station. 
Commodore  French  Forrest  was  chief  of  the  Bureau  of 
"Orders  and  Detail,"  and  I  really  thought  he  had  some 
sympathy  for  my  condition  when  he  looked  me  over.  He 
asked  me  where  I  would  like  to  be  ordered  to,  and  I  quickly 
said  that  I  would  be  delighted  if  I  was  sent  to  the  naval 
battery  at  Port  Hudson.  The  commodore  then  asked  if  I 
had  relatives  near  there,  and  on  my  assuring  him  that  my 
mother  and  sisters  were  refugees  and  were  staying  at  the 
plantation  of  General  Carter,  only  a  few  miles  distant,  he 
turned  to  a  clerk  and  said,  "Make  out  an  order  for  Mid- 
shipman Morgan  to  report  to  Commodore  Ingraham  at 
Charleston,  South  Carolina.  I  don't  believe  in  having  young 
officers  tied  to  their  mothers'  apron  strings."  —  And  so  to 
Charleston  I  went. 

Commodore  Ingraham,  to  whom  I  reported,  was  the  man 
who  some  years  previously,  when  in  command  of  the  little 
sloop-of-war  St.  Louis  in  the  port  of  Smyrna,  had  bluffed 
an  Austrian  frigate  and  compelled  her  to  surrender  Martin 
Koszta,  a  naturalized  American  citizen,  whom  they  held 
as  a  prisoner.  This  act  made  Ingraham  the  idol  of  the  peo- 
ple at  that  time;  if  repeated  in  this  day  (191 6),  it  would 
cost  an  officer  his  commission.   Commodore  Ingraham  also 


90  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

commanded  the  Confederate  gunboats  when  they  drove 
the  Federal  blockading  fleet  away  from  Charleston. 

I  was  assigned  to  the  Chicora,  a  little  ironclad  that  was 
being  built  between  two  wharves  which  served  as  a  navy 
yard.  She  was  not  nearly  completed,  so  I  was  forced  to 
hunt  for  quarters  on  shore.  Being  directed  to  a  miserable 
boarding-house  which  was  fourth-rate,  and  consequently 
supposed  to  be  cheap,  I  found  that  the  cheapest  board  to  be 
had  was  at  the  rate  of  forty-five  dollars  a  month,  so  I  did 
not  see  exactly  how  I  could  manage  it,  as  my  shore  pay  was 
only  forty.  However,  the  generous  hotel  proprietor,  when 
the  situation  was  explained,  consented  to  let  me  stay  for 
that  sum  on  condition  that  I  would  make  up  the  other  five 
dollars  if  my  friends  at  home  sent  me  any  money.  The  man 
was  certainly  taking  a  long  chance  for  that  extra  five  dol- 
lars. Where  were  my  friends,  and  where  was  my  home? 
My  mother  and  sisters  were  refugees ;  and  as  for  home  — 
the  following  extract  from  Mrs.  McHattan-Ripley's  book 
"From  Flag  to  Flag"  will  give  some  idea  of  its  condition. 
Mrs.  McHattan  lived  on  a  plantation  about  three  miles 
below  Baton  Rouge  and  after  the  battle  visited  the  town. 
She  says :  — 

At  last  I  descended  and  walked  the  dusty,  littered,  shadeless 
streets  from  square  to  square.  Seeing  the  front  door  of  the  late 
Judge  Morgan's  house  thrown  wide  open,  and  knowing  that  his 
widow  and  daughters,  after  asking  protection  for  their  property 
of  the  commanding  general,  had  left  before  the  battle,  I  entered. 
No  words  can  tell  the  scene  that  those  deserted  rooms  presented. 
The  grand  portraits,  heirlooms  of  that  aristocratic  family,  —  men 
of  the  Revolutionary  period,  high-bred  dames  of  a  long-past 
generation,  in  short  bodices,  puffed  sleeves,  towering  head- 
dresses, and  quaint  golden  chains,  ancestors  long  since  dead,  not 
only  valuable  as  likenesses  that  could  not  be  duplicated,  but 
acknowledged  works  of  art,  —  these  portraits  hung  from  the  walls, 
slashed  by  swords  clear  across  from  side  to  side,  stabbed  and 
mutilated  in  every  brutal  way!  The  contents  of  store-closets  had 
been  poured  over  the  floors;  molasses  and  vinegar  and  everything 
that  defaces  and  stains  had  been  smeared  over  the  walls  and  fur- 


George  Hollins  91 

niture.  Upstairs,  armoires  with  mirror-doors  had  been  smashed 
in  with  heavy  axes  or  hammers,  and  the  dainty  dresses  of  the 
young  ladies  torn  and  crushed  with  studied,  painstaking  malig- 
nity, while  china,  toilet  articles,  and  bits  of  glass  that  ornamented 
the  rooms  were  thrown  upon  the  beds  and  broken  and  ground  into 
a  mass  of  fragments.  Desks  were  wrenched  open,  and  the  con- 
tents scattered,  not  only  through  the  house;  but  out  upon  the 
streets,  to  be  wafted  in  all  directions;  parts  of  their  private  letters 
as  well  as  letters  from  the  desks  of  other  violated  homes,  and 
family  records  torn  from  numberless  Bibles,  were  found  on  the 
sidewalks  of  the  town,  and  even  on  the  public  roads  beyond  town 
limits. 

Lieutenant  Warley,  with  whom  I  had  served  on  the 
McRae,  was  the  only  living  human  being  I  knew  in  Charles- 
ton, and  the  great  difference  in  our  rank,  as  well  as  age, 
precluded  the  possibility  of  my  making  a  companion  of  him; 
so,  a  lonely  boy,  I  roamed  the  streets  of  the  quaint  old  city. 
Evidently  the  war  as  yet  had  had  no  effect  on  the  style  kept 
up  by  the  old  blue-bloods,  for  I  was  amazed  to  see  hand- 
some equipages,  with  coachmen  in  livery  on  the  box,  driving 
through  the  town.  Little  did  their  owners  dream  that  before 
very  long  those  same  fine  horses  would  be  hauling  artillery 
and  commissary  wagons,  and  those  proud  liveried  servants 
would  be  at  work  with  pick  and  spade  throwing  up  breast- 
works ! 

To  my  great  delight,  George  Hollins,  a  son  of  my  dearly 
loved  old  commodore,  a  boy  of  about  my  own  age  with 
whom  I  had  been  shipmate  on  the  Mississippi  River, 
arrived  in  town,  and  the  boarding-house  man  consented  to 
allow  him  to  share  my  little  room  at  the  same  rate  charged 
me.  George  had  been  in  Charleston  only  a  few  days  when 
yellow  fever  became  epidemic.  It  was  the  latter  part  of 
August  and  the  heat  was  something  fearful.  I  had  no  fear 
of  the  fever,  as  I  had  been  accustomed  to  its  frequent  visits 
to  my  old  home,  but  with  Hollins,  a  native  of  Baltimore,  it 
was  different. 

One  afternoon  he  came  into  our  room  and  complained  of 


92    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

a  headache  and  a  pain  in  his  back.  The  symptoms  were 
familiar  to  me,  so  I  persuaded  him  to  go  to  bed  and  covered 
him  with  the  dirty  rag  of  a  blanket.  I  then  went  quickly 
downstairs  and  asked  the  wife  of  the  proprietor  to  let  me 
have  some  hot  water  for  a  footbath  and  also  to  give  me  a 
little  mustard.  The  woman  was  shocked  at  my  presump- 
tion, but  consented  to  give  me  the  hot  water;  at  parting  with 
the  mustard  she  demurred.  As  I  was  about  to  leave  her 
kitchen  she  demanded  to  know  what  I  wanted  with  hot 
water,  and  when  I  told  her  that  my  friend  had  the  yellow 
fever,  there  was  a  scene  in  which  she  accused  me  of  trying 
to  ruin  the  reputation  of  the  house  and  threatened  me  with 
dire  punishment  from  her  husband. 

I  made  Hollins  put  his  feet  in  the  hot  water  and  then  I 
went  to  a  near-by  druggist,  telling  him  the  situation,  and 
asking  him  if  he  would  credit  me  for  the  mustard,  explaining 
that  neither  Hollins  nor  myself  had  any  money.  The  kindly 
apothecary  gave  me  the  mustard  and  told  me  I  could  have 
any  medicines  needed,  and  also  advised  me  to  go  at  once 
and  see  Dr.  Lebby,  who,  he  was  sure,  would  attend  to  the 
case  without  charge.  The  doctor  came  and  did  all  that  was 
possible.  Poor  George  grew  rapidly  worse;  he  seemed  to 
cling  to  me  as  his  only  friend,  and  could  not  bear  to  have 
me  leave  him  for  an  instant.  We  slept  that  night  huddled 
up  together  in  the  narrow  bed. 

The  next  morning  a  strange  negro  man,  very  well  dressed, 
and  carrying  a  bunch  of  flowers  in  one  hand  and  a  bundle  in 
the  other,  entered  the  room  and  proceeded  to  make  himself 
very  much  at  home.  When  asked  what  his  business  was,  he 
said  he  was  a  yellow-fever  nurse.  I  told  him  that  we  had 
no  money  and  could  not  pay  a  nurse,  at  which  he  burst  into 
a  broad  grin  and  said  that  he  did  not  want  any  money ;  that 
he  belonged  to  Mr.  Trenholm  who  had  sent  him  there. 
Throughout  the  day  all  sorts  of  delicacies  continued  to 
arrive,  and  to  every  inquiry  as  to  whom  they  came  from, 
the  reply  was,  "Mr.  Trenholm." 


HON.    GEORGE   A.   TRENHOLM 

Secretary  of  the  Confederate  States  Treasury 


Death  of  George  Hollins       93 

The  second  night  of  his  illness  George  was  taken  with 
the  black  vomit,  which,  as  I  held  him  in  my  arms,  saturated 
my  clothes.  A  shiver  passed  through  his  frame  and  without 
a  word  he  passed  away.  Leaving  my  friend's  body  in  charge 
of  the  nurse  I  went  in  search  of  Lieutenant  Warley,  and  he 
told  me  not  to  worry  about  his  funeral,  as  Mr.  Trenholm 
would  make  all  the  arrangements.  This  Mr.  Trenholm, 
unknown  to  me,  seemed  to  be  my  providence,  as  well  as 
being  all-powerful.  George  Hollins  was  buried  in  the 
beautiful  Magnolia  Cemetery  and  immediately  after  the  fu- 
neral Mr.  Warley  told  me  that  I  was  not  to  go  back  to  the 
boarding-house,  but  was  for  the  present  to  share  his  room 
at  the  Mills  House,  a  fashionable  hotel. 

A  few  days  after  the  funeral  I  was  walking  down  Broad 
Street  with  Mr.  Warley  and  we  saw  coming  toward  us  a 
tall  and  very  handsome  man  with  silvery  hair.  Mr.  Warley 
told  me  that  he  was  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  that  I  must  thank 
him  for  all  his  kindness  to  my  friend.  Mr.  Trenholm  said 
that  he  was  only  sorry  that  he  could  not  have  done  more 
for  the  poor  boy,  and,  turning  to  the  lieutenant,  said: 
"  Warley,  can't  you  let  this  young  gentleman  come  and  stay 
at  my  house?  There  are  some  young  people  there,  and  we 
will  try  and  make  it  pleasant  for  him." 

I  thanked  Mr.  Trenholm  and  told  him  that  I  had  re- 
cently been  sleeping  in  the  same  bed  with  my  friend,  who 
had  died  of  the  most  virulent  form  of  yellow  fever,  and  of 
course  I  could  not  go  into  anybody's  house  for  some  time 
to  come;  but  the  generous  gentleman  assured  me  that  his 
family  had  no  fears  of  the  fever  and  insisted  on  my  accept- 
ing his  kind  invitation.  However,  I  did  not  think  it  right  to 
go,  and  did  not  accept  at  that  time ;  a  day  or  two  afterwards, 
however,  I  again  met  him  with  Mr.  Warley,  and  he  said, 
"Warley,  I  am  sorry  this  young  gentleman  won't  accept 
my  invitation:  we  would  try  to  make  it  pleasant  for  him." 
Mr.  Warley  turned  to  me,  saying,  "Youngster,  you  pack 
your  bag  and  go  up  to  Mr.  Trenholm's  house." 


94  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

That  settled  it  and  I  went,  arriving  at  the  great  mansion 
shortly  before  the  dinner  hour.  I  did  not,  however,  take  a 
bag  with  me.  If  I  had  owned  one,  I  would  not  have  had  any- 
thing to  put  in  it. 

I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  Mr.  Trenholm's  beautiful 
home.  For  more  than  half  a  century  now  it  has  been  pointed 
out  to  tourists  as  one  of  the  show  places  of  Charleston,  and 
it  has  long  since  passed  into  the  hands  of  strangers.  I  must 
confess  that  as  I  opened  the  iron  gate  and  walked  through 
the  well-kept  grounds  to  the  front  door  I  was  a  little  awed 
by  the  imposing  building,  with  its  great  columns  supporting 
the  portico.  I  could  not  but  feel  some  misgivings  as  to  the 
reception  I  would  get,  stranger  as  I  was,  from  the  family 
whom  I  had  never  met.  Still,  I  did  not  dare  run  away,  and 
so  I  timidly  rang  the  bell.  A  slave,  much  better  dressed 
than  myself,  and  with  the  manners  of  a  Chesterfield,  ap- 
peared and  showed  me  into  the  parlors;  it  was  all  very 
grand,  but  very  lonely,  as  there  was  no  one  there  to  receive 
me.  I  took  a  seat  and  made  myself  comfortable ;  it  had  been 
a  long  time  since  I  had  sat  on  a  luxurious  sofa.  In  a  few 
minutes  two  young  ladies  entered  the  room.  Of  course  I 
had  never  seen  either  of  them  before,  but  the  idea  instantly 
flashed  through  my  mind  that  I  was  going  to  marry  the 
taller  of  the  two,  who  advanced  toward  me  and  introduced 
herself  as  "Miss  Trenholm." 

Soon  there  arrived  a  Frenchman,  a  Colonel  Le  Mat,  the 
inventor  of  the  "grapeshot  revolver,"  a  horrible  contrap- 
tion, the  cylinder  of  which  revolved  around  a  section  of  a 
gun  barrel.  The  cylinder  contained  ten  bullets,  and  the 
grapeshot  barrel  was  loaded  with  buckshot  which,  when 
fired,  would  almost  tear  the  arm  off  a  man  with  its  recoil. 
Le  Mat's  English  vocabulary  was  limited,  and  his  only  sub- 
ject of  conversation  was  his  invention,  so  he  used  me  to  ex- 
plain to  the  young  ladies  how  the  infernal  machine  worked. 
Now  that  sounds  all  very  easy,  but  one  must  remember  that 
Le  Mat  was  a  highly  imaginative  Gaul  and  insisted  on 


Coats  never  unbuttoned  95 

posing  me  to  illustrate  his  lecture.  This  was  embarrassing 
—  especially  as  he  considered  it  polite  to  begin  all  over 
again  as  each  new  guest  entered  the  room.  At  last  relief 
came  when  Mr.  Trenholm  came  in  with  a  beautiful  lady, 
well  past  middle  age,  leaning  on  his  arm;  and  I  was  intro- 
duced to  my  hostess,  whose  kind  face  and  gentle  manner 
put  me  at  my  ease  at  once. 

Oh,  but  it  was  a  good  dinner  I  sat  down  to  that  day! 
After  all  these  years  the  taste  of  the  good  things  lingers  in 
my  memory  and  I  can  almost  smell  the  "aurora,"  as  Boat- 
swain Miller  used  to  call  the  aroma,  of  the  wonderful  old 
madeira.  It  was  in  the  month  of  September  and  the 
weather  was  intensely  hot;  I  had  my  heavy  cloth  uniform 
coat  buttoned  closely,  and  only  the  rim  of  my  celluloid  collar 
showed  above.  Dinner  over,  we  assembled  in  the  drawing- 
room  where  we  were  enjoying  music,  when  suddenly  I 
found  myself  in  a  most  embarrassing  position.  Dear,  kind 
Mrs.  Trenholm  was  the  cause  of  it.  Despite  my  protesta- 
tions that  naval  officers  were  never  allowed  to  open  their 
uniform  coats,  she  insisted,  as  it  was  so  warm,  that  I  should 
unbutton  mine  and  be  comfortable.  Unbutton  that  coat! 
Never!  I  would  have  died  first.  I  had  no  shirt  under  that 
coat;  I  did  not  own  one. 

When  bedtime  arrived,  Mr.  Trenholm  escorted  me  to  a 
handsomely  furnished  room.  What  a  sleep  I  had  that  night 
between  those  snow-white  sheets,  and  what  a  surprise  there 
was  in  the  morning  when  I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  a  man- 
servant putting  studs  and  cuff-buttons  in  a  clean  white 
shirt.  On  a  chair  there  lay  a  newly  pressed  suit  of  civilian 
togs.  I  assured  the  man  that  he  had  made  a  mistake,  but 
he  told  me  he  had  orders  from  his  mistress  and  that  all  those 
things  and  the  contents  of  a  trunk  he  had  brought  into  the 
room  were  for  me,  adding  that  they  had  belonged  to  his 
young  "Mass'  Alfred,"  a  boy  of  about  my  own  age,  whose 
health  had  broken  down  in  the  army  and  who  had  been 
sent  abroad.    I  wanted  the  servant  to  leave  the  room  so  I 


96  Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

could  rise.  I  was  too  modest  to  get  out  of  bed  in  his  pres- 
ence and  too  diffident  to  ask  him  to  leave;  but  at  last  re- 
flected that  everybody  must  know  that  I  had  no  shirt,  so  I 
jumped  up  and  tumbled  into  a  bath,  and  when  the  "body- 
servant"  had  arrayed  me  in  those  fine  clothes  I  hardly 
knew  myself. 

After  breakfast  two  horses  were  brought  to  the  front  of 
the  house,  one,  with  a  lady's  saddle  was  called  "Gypsy" 
and  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  Arabs  I  ever  saw  (and  I 
have  seen  many) ;  the  other,  a  grand  chestnut,  called  "  Jonce 
Hooper,"  one  of  the  most  famous  race-horses  on  the  South- 
ern turf  when  the  war  commenced.  He  had  been  bought  by 
Colonel  William  Trenholm,  my  host's  eldest  son,  for  a 
charger,  but  Colonel  Trenholm  soon  found  that  the  pam- 
pered racer  was  too  delicate  for  rough  field  work  in  time  of 
war.  Miss  Trenholm  and  I  mounted  these  superb  animals 
and  that  morning  and  many  mornings  afterwards  we  went 
for  long  rides.  In  the  afternoons  I  would  accompany  the 
young  ladies  in  a  landau  drawn  by  a  superb  pair  of  bays 
with  two  men  on  the  box.  Just  at  that  time  the  life  of  a 
Confederate  midshipman  did  not  seem  to  be  one  of  great 
hardship  to  me;  but  my  life  of  ease  and  luxury  was  fast 
drawing  to  an  end. 

In  the  evenings  the  family  and  their  friends  used  to  sit 
on  the  big  porch  where  tea,  cakes,  and  ice  cream  were 
served,  and  the  gentlemen  could  smoke  if  they  felt  so  in- 
clined. One  day  the  distinguished  Commodore  Matthew  F. 
Maury,  who  was  on  his  way  to  Europe  to  fit  out  Confeder- 
ate cruisers,  dined  at  the  house,  and  after  dinner,  with  Mr. 
Trenholm,  had  joined  the  gay  party  on  the  piazza.  Mr. 
Trenholm  was  the  head  of  the  firm  of  Fraser,  Trenholm  & 
Co.,  of  Liverpool  and  Charleston,  financial  agents  of  the 
Confederate  Government.  Suddenly  Mr.  Trenholm  came 
over  to  where  I  was  laughing  and  talking  with  a  group  of 
young  people,  and  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  go  abroad 
and  join  a  cruiser.    I  told  him  that  nothing  would  delight 


Ordered  Abroad  97 

me  more,  but  that  those  details  were  for  officers  who  had 
distinguished  themselves,  or  who  had  influence,  and  that  as 
I  had  not  done  the  one  thing  and  did  not  possess  the  other 
requisite,  I  could  stand  no  possible  chance  of  being  ordered 
to  go.  Mr.  Trenholm  said  that  was  not  the  question;  he 
wanted  to  know  if  I  really  wished  to  go.  On  being  assured 
that  I  would  give  anything  to  have  the  chance,  he  returned 
to  Commodore  Maury  and  resumed  his  conversation  about 
the  peculiarities  of  the  "Gulf  Stream." 

Imagine  my  surprise  the  next  morning  when,  after  return- 
ing from  riding,  I  was  handed  a  telegram,  the  contents  of 
which  read:  "  Report  to  Commodore  M.  F.  Maury  for  duty 
abroad.  Mr.  Trenholm  will  arrange  for  your  passage"; 
signed,  "S.  R.  Mallory,  Secretary  of  the  Navy."  It  fairly 
took  my  breath  away! 


CHAPTER  XI 

Run  through  the  U.S.  blockading  fleet  —  Out  of  our  reckoning  —  Bermuda 
—  Blockade-runners  throw  money  into  the  street  —  Commodore  Wilkes's 
famous  ship  San  Jacinto  gives  us  a  scare  —  Halifax  —  Sail  for  England  in 
company  with  some  of  Her  Majesty's  Life  Guardsmen. 

Mr.  Trenholm  owned  many  blockade-runners  — one  of 
them,  the  little  light-draft  steamer  Herald,  was  lying  in 
Charleston  Harbor  loaded  with  cotton  and  all  ready  to 
make  an  attempt  to  run  through  the  blockading  fleet. 
Commodore  Maury,  accompanied  by  his  little  son,  a  boy 
of  twelve  years  of  age,  and  myself,  whom  he  had  designated 
as  his  aide-de-camp  for  the  voyage,  went  on  board  after 
bidding  good-bye  to  our  kind  friends.  About  ten  o'clock  at 
night  we  got  under  way  and  steamed  slowly  down  the  har- 
bor, headed  for  the  sea.  The  moon  was  about  half  full, 
but  heavy  clouds  coming  in  from  the  ocean  obscured  it. 
We  passed  between  the  great  lowering  forts  of  Moultrie 
and  Sumter  and  were  soon  on  the  bar,  when  suddenly  there 
was  a  rift  in  the  clouds,  through  which  the  moon  shone 
brightly,  and  there,  right  ahead  of  us,  we  plainly  saw  a  big 
sloop-of-war! 

There  was  no  use  trying  to  hide.  She  also  had  seen  us, 
and  the  order,  "Hard-a-starboard!"  which  rang  out  on 
our  boat  was  nearly  drowned  by  the  roar  of  the  warship's 
great  guns.  The  friendly  clouds  closed  again  and  obscured 
the  moon,  and  we  rushed  back  to  the  protecting  guns  of 
the  forts  without  having  had  our  paint  scratched.  Two  or 
three  more  days  were  passed  delightfully  in  Charleston; 
then  there  came  a  drizzling  rain  and  on  the  night  of  the  9th 
of  October,  1862,  we  made  another  attempt  to  get  through 
the  blockade.  All  lights  were  out  except  the  one  in  the  cov- 
ered binnacle  protecting  the  compass.  Not  a  word  was 
spoken  save  by  the  pilot,  who  gave  his  orders  to  the  man 


Out  of  our  Reckoning  99 

at  the  wheel  in  whispers.  Captain  Coxetter,  who  com- 
manded the  Herald,  had  previously  commanded  the  priva- 
teer Jeff  Davis,  and  had  no  desire  to  be  taken  prisoner,  as 
he  had  been  proclaimed  by  the  Federal  Government  to  be 
a  pirate  and  he  was  doubtful  about  the  treatment  he  would 
receive  if  he  fell  into  the  enemy's  hands.  He  was  convinced 
that  the  great  danger  in  running  the  blockade  was  in  his 
own  engine-room,  so  he  seated  himself  on  the  ladder  leading 
down  to  it  and  politely  informed  the  engineer  that  if  the 
engine  stopped  before  he  was  clear  of  the  fleet,  he,  the  engi- 
neer, would  be  a  dead  man.  As  Coxetter  held  in  his  hand 
a  Colt's  revolver,  this  sounded  like  no  idle  threat.  Pres- 
ently I  heard  the  whispered  word  passed  along  the  deck 
that  we  were  on  the  bar.  This  information  was  imme- 
diately followed  by  a  series  of  bumps  as  the  little  ship  rose 
on  the  seas,  which  were  quite  high,  and  then  plunging 
downward,  hit  the  bottom,  causing  her  to  ring  like  an  old 
tin  pan.  However,  we  safely  bumped  our  way  across  the 
shallows,  and,  plunging  and  tossing  in  the  gale,  this  little 
cockleshell,  whose  rail  was  scarcely  five  feet  above  the  sea 
level,  bucked  her  way  toward  Bermuda.  She  was  about  as 
much  under  the  water  as  she  was  on  top  of  it  for  most  of 
the  voyage. 

Bermuda  is  only  six  hundred  miles  from  Charleston;  a 
fast  ship  could  do  the  distance  easily  in  forty-eight  hours, 
but  the  Herald  was  slow:  six  or  seven  knots  was  her  ordi- 
nary speed  in  good  weather  and  eight  when  she  was  pushed. 
She  had  tumbled  about  in  the  sea  so  much  that  she  had  put 
one  of  her  engines  out  of  commission  and  it  had  to  be  dis- 
connected. We  were  thus  compelled  to  limp  along  with 
one,  which  of  course  greatly  reduced  her  speed.  On  the 
fifth  day  the  weather  moderated  and  we  sighted  two  schoon- 
ers. To  our  surprise  Captain  Coxetter  headed  for  them 
and,  hailing  one,  asked  for  their  latitude  and  longitude. 
The  schooner  gave  the  information,  adding  that  she  navi- 
gated with  a  "blue  pigeon"  (a  deep-sea  lead),  which  of 


ioo        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

course  was  very  reassuring.  We  limped  away  and  went  on 
groping  for  Bermuda.  Captain  Coxetter  had  spent  his  life 
in  the  coasting  trade  between  Charleston  and  the  Florida 
ports,  and  even  when  he  commanded  for  a  few  months  the 
privateer  Jeff  Davis  he  had  never  been  far  away  from  the 
land.  Such  was  the  jealousy,  however,  of  merchant  sailors 
toward  officers  of  the  navy  that,  with  one  of  the  most  cele- 
brated navigators  in  the  world  on  board  his  ship,  he  had 
not  as  yet  confided  to  anybody  the  fact  that  he  was  lost. 

On  the  sixth  day,  however,  he  told  Commodore  Maury 
that  something  terrible  must  have  happened,  as  he  had 
sailed  his  ship  directly  over  the  spot  where  the  Bermuda 
Islands  ought  to  be!  Commodore  Maury  told  him  that  he 
could  do  nothing  for  him  before  ten  o'clock  that  night 
and  advised  him  to  slow  down.  At  ten  o'clock  the  great 
scientist  and  geographer  went  on  deck  and  took  observa- 
tions, at  times  lying  flat  on  his  back,  sextant  in  hand,  as 
he  made  measurements  of  the  stars.  When  he  had  finished 
his  calculations  he  gave  the  captain  a  course  and  told  him 
that  by  steering  it  at  a  certain  speed  he  would  sight  the  light 
at  Port  Hamilton  by  two  o'clock  in  the  morning.  No  one 
turned  into  his  bunk  that  night  except  the  commodore 
and  his  little  son;  the  rest  of  us  were  too  anxious.  Four 
bells  struck  and  no  light  was  in  sight.  Five  minutes  more 
passed  and  still  not  a  sign  of  it;  then  grumbling  commenced, 
and  the  passengers  generally  agreed  with  the  man  who  ex- 
pressed the  opinion  that  there  was  too  much  d d  science 

on  board  and  that  we  should  all  be  on  our  way  to  Fort  La- 
fayette in  New  York  Harbor  as  soon  as  day  broke.  At  ten 
minutes  past  two  the  masthead  lookout  sang  out,  "Light 
ho!"  —  and  the  learned  old  commodore's  reputation  as  a 
navigator  was  saved. 

We  ran  around  the  islands  and  entered  the  picturesque 
harbor  of  St.  George  shortly  after  daylight.  There  were 
eight  or  ten  other  blockade-runners  lying  in  the  harbor,  and 
their  captains  and  mates  lived  at  the  same  little  white- 


Blockade-runners  ioi 

washed  hotel  where  the  commodore  and  I  stopped,  which 
gave  us  an  opportunity  of  seeing  something  of  their  man- 
ner of  life  when  on  shore.  Their  business  was  risky  and 
the  penalty  of  being  caught  was  severe;  they  were  a  reck- 
less lot,  and  believed  in  eating,  drinking,  and  being  merry, 
for  fear  that  they  would  die  on  the  morrow  and  might  miss 
something.  Their  orgies  reminded  me  of  the  stories  of  the 
way  the  pirates  in  the  West  Indies  spent  their  time  when 
in  their  secret  havens.  The  men  who  commanded  many  of 
these  blockade-runners  had  probably  never  before  in  their 
lives  received  more  than  fifty  to  seventy-five  dollars  a 
month  for  their  services;  now  they  received  ten  thousand 
dollars  in  gold  for  a  round  trip,  besides  being  allowed  cargo 
space  to  take  into  the  Confederacy,  for  their  own  account, 
goods  which  could  be  sold  at  a  fabulous  price,  and  also 
to  bring  out  a  limited  number  of  bales  of  cotton  worth  a 
dollar  a  pound.  In  Bermuda  these  men  seemed  to  suffer 
from  a  chronic  thirst  which  could  only  be  assuaged  by 
champagne,  and  one  of  their  amusements  was  to  sit  in  the 
windows  with  bags  of  shillings  and  throw  handfuls  of  the 
coins  to  a  crowd  of  loafing  negroes  in  the  street  to  see  them 
scramble.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  five  years  after  the  war 
not  one  of  these  men  had  a  dollar  to  bless  himself  with. 
Another  singular  fact  was  that  it  was  not  always  the  speed- 
ier craft  that  were  the  most  successful.  The  Kate  (named 
after  Mrs.  William  Trenholm)  ran  through  the  blockad- 
ing fleets  sixty  times  and  she  could  not  steam  faster  than 
seven  or  eight  knots.  That  was  the  record ;  next  to  her  came 
the  Herald,  or  the  Antonica  as  she  was  afterwards  called. 

Commodore  Maury  was  a  deeply  religious  man.  He  had 
been  lame  for  many  years  of  his  life,  but  no  one  ever  heard 
him  complain.  He  had  been  many  years  in  the  navy,  but 
had  scarcely  ever  put  his  foot  on  board  of  a  ship  without 
being  seasick,  and  through  it  all  he  never  allowed  it  to  in- 
terfere with  his  duty.  He  was  the  only  man  I  ever  saw  who 
could  be  seasick  and  amiable  at  the  same  time ;  while  suffer- 


102   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

ing  from  nausea  he  could  actually  joke!  I  remember  once 
entering  his  stateroom  where  he  was  seated  with  a  Bible  on 
his  lap  and  a  basin  alongside  of  him.  I  told  him  that  there 
was  a  ship  in  sight,  and  between  paroxysms  he  said,  "Some- 
times we  see  a  ship,  and  sometimes  ship  a  sea!" 

Not  knowing  of  his  world-wide  celebrity,  I  was  surprised 
to  see  the  deference  paid  him  by  foreigners.  We  had  no 
sooner  settled  ourselves  at  the  hotel  than  the  governor  sent 
an  aide  to  tell  Lieutenant  Maury  that  he  would  be  pleased 
to  receive  him  in  his  private  capacity  at  the  Government 
House.  In  Europe  the  commodore  was  only  known  as  "the 
great  Lieutenant  Maury";  they  entirely  ignored  any  pro- 
motions which  might  have  come  to  him.  The  commandant 
of  Fort  St.  George  also  called  on  him,  but  took  pains  to  ex- 
plain that  it  was  the  great  scientist  to  whom  he  was  pay- 
ing homage,  and  not  the  Confederate  naval  officer.  As  the 
commodore's  aide  I  came  in  for  a  little  of  the  reflected  glory 
and  had  the  pleasure  of  accompanying  him  to  a  dinner  given 
in  his  honor  on  board  of  H.M.S.  Immortality  at  Port  Ham- 
ilton. She  was  a  beautiful  frigate  and  her  officers  were  very 
kind  to  me. 

We  remained  in  Bermuda  for  more  than  two  weeks  wait- 
ing for  the  Royal  Mail  Steamer  from  St.  Thomas,  on  which 
we  were  to  take  passage  for  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia.  Simul- 
taneously with  her  arrival  the  U.S.  sloops-of-war  San  Ja- 
cinto and  Mohican  put  in  an  appearance,  but  did  not  enter 
the  harbor,  cruising  instead  just  outside  the  three-mile  limit 
and  in  the  track  the  British  ship  Delta  would  have  to  fol- 
low. Instantly  the  rumor  spread  that  they  were  going  to 
take  Commodore  Maury  out  of  the  ship  as  soon  as  she  got 
outside,  color  being  lent  to  this  rumor  by  the  fact  that  it 
was  the  San  Jacinto  which  had  only  a  year  before  taken  the 
Confederate  Commissioners,  Mason  and  Slidell,  out  of  the 
Royal  Mail  steamship  Trent  —  and  I  must  say  that  we  felt 
quite  uneasy. 

On  the  day  of  our  departure  a  Mr.  Bourne,  a  gentleman 


Halifax  103 

of  whom  I  had  never  heard  before,  asked  me  to  accompany 
him  to  his  office  and  there  counted  out  a  hundred  gold  sov- 
ereigns, sealed  them  in  a  canvas  bag,  and  asked  me  to  sign 
a  receipt  for  them.  I  assured  him  that  there  must  be  some 
mistake,  but  he  insisted  that  I  was  the  right  party  and  that 
it  was  Mr.  Trenholm's  orders  that  he  should  give  the  money 
to  me.  Having  had  free  meals  and  lodging  on  the  blockade- 
runner,  it  was  the  first  intimation  I  had  that  money  would 
be  necessary  on  so  long  a  journey  as  the  one  I  was  about  to 
undertake. 

We  sailed  out  of  the  harbor,  and  the  two  American  war- 
ships, as  soon  as  we  got  outside,  followed  us.  As  we  rounded 
the  headland  we  saw  the  Immortality  and  the  British 
sloop-of-war  Desperate  coming  from  Port  Hamilton  under 
a  full  head  of  steam  and  we  expected  every  moment  to  wit- 
ness a  naval  fight;  the  American  ships,  however,  seemed 
satisfied  with  having  given  us  a  scare,  while  the  British  fol- 
lowed us  until  we  lost  sight  of  them  in  the  night. 

The  governor  of  the  colony  of  Nova  Scotia,  the  general 
commanding  the  troops,  and  the  admiral  of  the  fleet,  all 
treated  " Lieutenant"  Maury,  as  they  insisted  on  calling 
him,  with  the  most  distinguished  consideration,  inviting  him 
to  dinners  and  receptions,  etc.,  to  which,  as  his  aide,  I  had 
to  accompany  the  great  man.  I  particularly  enjoyed  the 
visit  to  Admiral  Milne's  flagship,  the  Nile,  of  seventy-two 
guns  carried  on  three  decks.  The  old  wooden  line-of-battle 
ship  with  her  lofty  spars  was  a  splendid  sight,  and  the  like 
of  her  will  never  be  seen  again.  What  interested  me  most 
on  board  was  the  eighteen  or  twenty  midshipmen  in  her 
complement,  many  of  them  younger  and  smaller  than 
myself.  They  all  made  much  of  me  and  frankly  envied  me 
on  account  of  my  having  been  in  battle  and  having  run  the 
blockade. 

The  officers  of  the  garrison  were  also  very  kind  to  me 
and  told  me  a  story  about  their  commander,  General 
O' Dougherty,  which  I  have  never  forgotten.    It  was  about 


104   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

a  visit  the  chief  of  the  O' Dougherty  clan  paid  to  the  gen- 
eral. Not  finding  him  at  home,  he  left  his  card  on  which 
was  simply  engraved,  "The  O'Dougherty."  The  general 
returned  the  visit  and  wrote  on  a  blank  card,  "The  other 
O'Dougherty." 

After  a  few  pleasant  days  spent  in  Halifax  the  Cunard 
steamer  Arabia,  plying  between  Boston  and  Liverpool, 
came  into  port  and  we  took  passage  on  her  for  Liverpool. 
The  Americans  on  board  resented  our  presence  and  of 
course  had  nothing  to  do  with  us,  but  a  number  of  young 
officers  of  the  Scots  Fusilier  Guards,  who  were  returning 
home  for  the  fox  hunting,  were  very  friendly.  They  had 
been  hurriedly  sent  to  Canada  when  war  seemed  imminent 
on  account  of  the  Trent  affair.  It  was  the  first  time  a  regi- 
ment of  the  Guards  had  been  out  of  England  since  Water- 
loo, and  they  were  very  glad  to  be  returning  to  their  beloved 
"Merry"  England.  Among  these  young  officers  was  the 
Earl  of  Dunmore,  who,  a  few  months  before,  wishing  to  see 
something  of  the  war  between  the  States,  had  obtained  a 
leave  of  absence,  passed  through  the  Federal  lines  and 
gone  to  Richmond  and  thence  to  Charleston.  He  had  trav- 
eled incog,  under  his  family  name  of  Murray. 

At  Charleston  he  had  been  entertained  by  Mr.  Tren- 
holm,  and  that  gave  us  something  to  talk  about.  Dunmore 
was  of  a  very  venturesome  disposition  and  instead  of  re- 
turning North  on  his  pass,  he  decided  to  enjoy  the  sensa- 
tion of  running  the  blockade.  The  boat  he  took  passage  on 
successfully  eluded  the  Federal  fleet  off  Charleston,  but 
she  was  captured  by  an  outside  cruiser  the  very  next  day. 
The  prisoners  were  of  course  searched,  and  around  the 
body  of  "  Mr.  Murray,"  under  his  shirt,  was  found  wrapped 
a  Confederate  flag  —  the  flag  of  the  C.S.S.  Nashville,  which 
had  been  presented  to  him  by  Captain  Pegram.  Despite 
his  protestations  that  he  was  a  Britisher  traveling  for  pleas- 
ure, he  was  confined,  as  "Mr.  Murray,"  in  Fort  Lafayette. 
The  British  Minister,  Lord  Lyons,  soon  heard  of  his  pre- 


Her  Majesty's  Life  Guardsmen  105 

dicament  and  requested  the  authorities  in  Washington  to 
order  his  release,  representing  him  as  being  the  Earl  of 
Dunmore,  a  lieutenant  in  Her  Majesty's  Life  Guards.  But 
the  commandant  of  Fort  Lafayette  denied  that  he  had  any 
such  prisoner  and  it  required  quite  a  correspondence  to 
persuade  him  that  a  man  by  the  name  of  Murray  could 
at  the  same  time  be  Lord  Dunmore. 

Another  of  the  Guardsmen  was  Captain  Richard  Cooper, 
who,  at  the  relief  of  Lucknow,  was  the  first  man  through  the 
breach  in  the  wall,  on  which  occasion  he  received  a  fearful 
wound  across  his  forehead  from  a  scimitar  in  the  hands  of 
a  Sepoy,  which  had  left  a  vivid  red  scar.  Several  of  the 
young  Guardsmen  had  never  yet  flirted  with  death;  they 
envied  Captain  Cooper  and  would  gladly  have  been  the 
possessors  of  his  ugly  scarlet  blemish. 

The  Arabia  was  a  paddlewheel  full-rigged  ship.  She 
appeared  to  us  to  be  enormous  in  size,  though,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  she  was  not  one  tenth  as  large  as  the  modern  Cu- 
nard  liner.  She  did  not  even  have  a  smoking-room,  the  lov- 
ers of  the  weed,  when  they  wished  to  indulge  in  a  whiff, 
having  to  seek  the  shelter  of  the  lee  side  of  the  smokestack 
in  all  sorts  of  weather.  A  part  of  this  pleasant  voyage  was 
very  smooth,  but  when  we  struck  the  "roaring  forties" 
the  big  ship  tumbled  about  considerably  and  my  commo- 
dore was  as  seasick  and  amiable  as  usual. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Liverpool  —  London  —  Visit  "  Hill  Morton,"  near  Rugby  —  Ordered  to  the 
C.S.S.  Alexandra  —  Snubbed  —  Ordered  to  Paris  —  Ordered  to  London  — 
Birthday  properly  celebrated  —  Damn  the  Marquis  of  Westminster  and  lose 
my  only  friend  —  Meet  several  Mr.  Grigsons. 

We  arrived  in  Liverpool  safely,  and  as  soon  as  we  could 
go  ashore  I  accompanied  Commodore  Maury  to  No.  10 
Rumford  Place,  the  offices  of  Messrs.  Fraser,  Trenholm  & 
Co.,  the  financial  agents  of  the  Confederacy.  There  had 
been  no  Mr.  Fraser  in  the  firm  for  many  years  prior  to  this 
time,  and  Mr.  Prioleau,  a  junior  partner,  was  in  charge  of 
the  Liverpool  branch.  But  it  was  not  to  see  him  that  our 
visit  was  made.  The  commodore  wanted  to  see  Captain 
Bullock,  C.S.N.,  who  had  recently  fitted  out  the  Alabama 
and  who  was  busy  superintending  the  building  of  other 
ships  intended  for  Confederate  cruisers.  Captain  Bullock 
was  very  kind  to  me,  particularly  after  I  had  told  him  that 
I  knew  Mrs.  Bullock  when  she  was  Miss  Harriet  Cross  and 
lived  in  Baton  Rouge. 

Before  the  commodore  finished  his  interview  a  clerk  came 
into  Captain  Bullock's  office  and  asked  if  I  was  Mr.  Morgan; 
he  said  Mr.  Prioleau  wanted  to  see  me.  Mr.  Prioleau  was 
very  affable  and  gave  me  two  letters  of  introduction,  one  to  a 
fashionable  London  tailor  and  the  other  to  the  firm  of  Dent, 
the  celebrated  chronometer  makers  of  that  day.  He  said  it 
was  by  Mr.  Trenholm's  orders  and  that  the  letters  contained 
instructions  as  to  what  those  people  would  give  me. 

The  commodore  and  I  stopped  overnight  at  the  old 
Adelphi  Hotel.  I  was  by  this  time  accustomed  to  commo- 
dores and  I  had  met  a  live  lord,  but  the  head  waiter,  the 
most  pompous  and  dignified  human  being  I  had  ever  en- 
countered, filled  my  little  soul  with  awe  whenever  he  con- 
descended to  come  near  me.  I  was  hungry,  but  felt  diffident 


London  107 

about  asking  such  an  important  personage  to  allow  me  to 
have  anything  to  eat.  I  soon  found,  however,  that  he  was 
not  as  dangerous  as  he  looked  and  that  on  occasion  he  could 
slightly  unbend,  and  as  for  knowing  things,  why  he  knew  a 
great  deal  better  than  I  did  what  I  wanted  for  my  dinner. 

When  we  reached  London  I  found  that  a  house  in  Sack- 
ville  Street  had  already  been  engaged  for  the  commodore, 
who  kindly  invited  me  to  be  his  guest.  As  I  have  before  said, 
Commodore  Maury  was  much  more  appreciated  in  Europe 
than  he  was  in  his  native  land.  All  day  long  there  would 
be  in  front  of  the  house  a  string  of  carriages  with  coronets 
on  their  doors,  while  their  owners  were  paying  their  respects 
to  the  great  "Lieutenant"  Maury.  The  Emperor  of  Russia 
sent  him  an  offer  of  the  rank  of  admiral,  with  a  salary  of 
thirty  thousand  dollars  a  year  attached  to  the  rank,  if  he 
would  enter  His  Majesty's  service,  and  to  build  him  an 
observatory  and  a  palatial  residence  in  any  part  of  Russia 
which  he  should  select.  Commodore  Maury  thanked  him 
and  told  him  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  accept  his  very 
flattering  offer,  as  he,  the  commodore,  had  devoted  his  life 
and  abilities  to  the  cause  of  the  South. 

Having  nothing  else  to  do,  I  hired  a  cab  and  presented 
first  my  letter  of  introduction  to  Dent,  the  watchmaker, 
where  the  polite  manager  placed  before  me  a  whole  trayful 
of  gold  watches  and  another  of  watch  chains,  and  begged 
me  to  take  my  choice.  I  was  a  little  dazed,  but  managed  to 
carry  off  with  me  a  beautiful  timepiece.  Next  I  went  to  the 
tailor,  who  measured  me  in  every  conceivable  way  and  then 
assured  me,  with  many  bows,  that  he  would  expedite  my 
order  and  keep  me  waiting  as  short  a  time  as  possible. 
When  that  order  arrived  in  Sackville  Street  I  was  surprised, 
indeed.  At  most  I  had  expected  a  new  sack  coat,  but  here 
was  a  great  box  containing  a  full-dress  suit,  a  morning  or 
business  suit,  an  afternoon  frock  coat,  a  smoking- jacket  — - 
and  Heaven  only  knows  what  else. 

I  had  not  been  in  London  more  than  a  week  when  my 


io8        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

friends  the  Guardsmen  put  in  an  appearance  and  invited 
me  to  visit  their  various  homes.  The  commodore  selected 
the  invitation  of  Captain  Cooper  as  the  first  one  for  me  to 
accept,  as  he  was  the  oldest  officer,  and  I  went  to  his  place 
called  "Hill  Morton,"  near  Rugby.  I  found  gathered  there 
Lord  Dunmore,  Lieutenant  the  Honorable  Charles  White, 
and  Lieutenant  Ram,  of  Ramsgate,  who  had  been  my  fel- 
low passengers  on  the  Arabia.  That  visit  is  among  the  most 
pleasant  recollections  of  my  long  life.  Captain  Cooper  took 
me  to  see  Rugby  School  where  I  insisted  on  seeing  the  exact 
spot  on  which  "Tom  Brown"  had  fought  his  memorable 
fight.  "Tom  Brown"  was  a  real  personage  to  me  in  those 
days,  and  although  the  request  might  have  puzzled  the 
Head  Master,  it  was  easy  for  those  young  Guardsmen  to 
take  me  to  the  place  and  make  me  thrill  with  their  vivid 
description  of  the  contest.  I  afterwards  found  out  that  they 
were  all  Eton  boys  and  did  not  know  any  more  about 
Rugby  than  I  did. 

On  the  days  when  we  did  not  hunt  I  was  taken  on  a  round 
of  calls  on  the  county  families.  I  never  before  knew  that 
there  were  so  many  lords  and  ladies  in  the  world,  and  to  my 
great  satisfaction  all  the  aristocrats  I  met  seemed  to  sym- 
pathize with  the  South  in  her  fight  for  the  right  of  secession. 
In  the  smoking-rooms  after  dinner  I  was  made  to  recount 
the  stories  of  the  battles  I  had  been  in,  and  they  flattered 
me  so  that  I  began  almost  to  believe  that  I  was  something 
of  a  hero. 

Like  all  pleasant  things  my  visits  to  my  Guardsmen 
friends  came  to  an  end  and  I  returned  to  London,  where  I 
received  orders  to  proceed  to  Liverpool  and  report  to 
Lieutenant  J.  R.  Hamilton,  C.S.N. ,  for  duty  on  the  Alex- 
andra. This  was  only  a  nom  de  guerre  given  her  in  the  hope 
of  hoodwinking  the  British  Government  as  to  the  real  pur- 
poses for  which  she  was  being  built ;  but  no  matter  how  blind 
the  British  might  be,  Mr.  Charles  Francis  Adams,  the 
American  Minister,  to  use  a  vulgar  expression,  was  "on  to 


Liverpool  109 

her,"  and  knew  as  well  as  we  did  what  she  was  intended  for. 
Only  her  keel  and  ribs  were  in  place  when  I  first  saw  her 
and  I  do  not  think  the  builders  were  in  any  hurry  to  com- 
plete her,  but  rather  devoted  their  energies  to  the  construc- 
tion of  an  iron  blockade-runner  called  the  Phantom  which 
was  being  built  in  the  same  yard. 

It  was  now  the  middle  of  winter.  The  days  were  shorter 
than  I  ever  believed  days  could  be  —  it  was  not  light  before 
ten  in  the  morning,  and  dark  again  by  half-past  two  in  the 
afternoon  with  the  exception  of  foggy  days,  and  then  there 
was  no  daylight  at  all.  How  I  repented  ever  having  abused 
that  bright,  burning  Louisiana  sun.  What  would  I  not  have 
given  for  a  few  hours  of  its  presence. 

My  life  in  Liverpool  that  winter  was  a  very  lonely  one, 
as  I  was  the  only  Confederate  midshipman,  at  the  time,  in 
Europe.  I  only  knew  two  families  in  the  city  —  that  of 
Captain  Huger's  sister,  Mrs.  Calder,  who  was  very  kind  to 
me  on  account  of  my  having  served  in  the  McRae  under  her 
heroic  brother,  and  the  family  of  Mr.  Blacklock,  a  retired 
merchant  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina.  Captain  Bullock 
and  Lieutenant  Hamilton  lived  out  of  town,  as  did  Mr. 
Prioleau  who  resided  in  a  baronial  mansion  called  "  Allerton 
Hall,"  some  miles  out.  Having  naturally,  midshipman-like, 
squandered  all  the  money  Mr.  Trenholm  had  so  kindly  in- 
structed his  agent  in  Bermuda  to  give  me,  I  was  now  again 
dependent  on  my  pay  of  forty  dollars  a  month  and  was 
compelled,  for  reasons  of  economy,  to  live  in  a  little  dingy 
house  in  a  back  street,  called  Upper  Newington,  a  couple 
of  blocks  away  from  the  Adelphi  Hotel.  Unaccustomed  as 
I  was  to  cold  weather,  the  constant  storms  and  the  snow 
added  to  the  cheerlessness  of  the  situation.  The  only  break 
in  the  monotony  of  my  existence  came  on  the  days  I  at- 
tended a  nautical  school,  where  I  was  taught  navigation, 
and  my  fencing  and  boxing  classes.  I  thought  there  was 
going  to  be  a  rift  in  the  clouds  when  Mr.  Prioleau  invited 
me  to  Allerton  Hall  for  Christmas,  but  there  was  a  fly  in 


no        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

the  ointment  despite  the  magnificence  of  the  place  with  its 
hothouses  supplying  abundance  of  flowers  and  tropical 
fruits  in  December.  I  don't  know  whether  to  lay  the  blame 
of  my  trouble  on  my  age  or  on  a  young  lady,  but  the  facts 
were  these:  A  young  girl,  a  stepdaughter  of  a  Confederate 
general  who  commanded  for  some  time  at  Charleston,  was 
at  school  in  England  and  was  spending  the  holidays  with 
the  Prioleaus.  There  was  a  large  number  of  guests  at  din- 
ner on  Christmas  Day,  and  Mrs.  Prioleau  designated  me 
to  escort  the  young  lady  into  the  banquet  hall.  Now  the 
young  lady  was  just  my  own  age,  sixteen,  when  girls 
most  hate  boys  and  look  down  upon  them  with  supreme 
contempt,  and  this  young  lady  thought  it  beneath  her 
dignity  to  be  seated  by  a  boy  —  and  she  took  no  particular 
pains  to  hide  her  displeasure.  On  my  side  I  naturally  felt 
hurt,  for  was  I  not  an  officer  of  the  navy  and  a  veteran? 
At  all  events,  I  did  not  enjoy  my  dinner,  —  and  I  ought  to 
have  been  happy,  for  Mr.  Prioleau  had  handed  me  that 
morning  fifty  pounds  sterling,  saying  it  was  a  present  from 
my  kind  friend  Mr.  Trenholm  who  wished  me  a  merry 
Christmas.  The  first  use  I  made  of  my  wealth  was  to  ask 
and  obtain  permission  to  visit  Paris,  but  even  Paris,  despite 
its  beauty  and  objects  of  interest,  is  a  dull  place  for  a  boy  of 
sixteen  with  no  acquaintances  and  not  knowing  what  to  do 
with  himself,  so  I  returned  to  my  dismal  life  in  Liverpool. 

In  February,  1863,  I  received  an  order  detaching  me  from 
the  uncompleted  Alexandra,  and  ordering  me  to  proceed  to 
Paris  and  await  orders.  After  a  couple  of  weeks'  sojourn  in 
what  was  to  other  people  the  gayest  city  in  the  world,  I 
received  an  order  to  go  to  London  and  await  orders  at  the 
Westminster  Palace  Hotel. 

I  arrived  in  London  on  the  morning  of  the  10th  of  March. 
It  was  my  birthday,  and  I  must  say  this  for  the  Britishers, 
it  was  the  only  occasion  in  my  life  that  I  ever  saw  the  day 
properly  celebrated.  There  were  royal  processions  in  the 
streets  during  the  day,  and  the  city  was  gay  with  bunting, 


Lose  my  only  Friend  hi 

while  at  night  the  city  was  illuminated.  Such  crowds  as 
there  were  in  the  streets  I  could  never  have  imagined 
before.  It  was  said  that  despite  the  fact  that  the  throng  was 
most  amiable,  forty  people  were  crushed  to  death  by  its 
mere  pressure  in  the  narrow  streets.  I  should  add  incident- 
ally that  the  Prince  of  Wales,  afterwards  His  Majesty  King 
Edward  the  Seventh,  and  the  Princess  Alexandra  of  Den- 
mark were  married  that  day. 

Never  before  had  I  been  so  lonely  as  I  was  in  that  great 
city.  The  old,  dignified,  and  taciturn  waiter  who  served  my 
meals  was  the  only  human  being  who  took  any  notice  of  me. 
He,  after  a  time,  appeared  to  be  sorry  for  me  and  gave  me 
a  table  by  a  window  looking  out  on  the  street;  occasionally 
he  would  vouchsafe  me  a  word,  for  which  I  was  truly 
grateful ;  but  I  was  ignorant  of  the  fact  that  he  was  a  friend 
of  the  Marquis  of  Westminster,  and  I  made  a  bad  break 
which  cost  me  his  friendship.  The  trouble  occurred  in  this 
way.  I  came  to  breakfast  one  morning  feeling  cross  and 
unhappy.  I  was  gazing  out  of  the  window  when  a  pedes- 
trian, whose  clothes  did  not  look  any  too  fresh,  passed  by  on 
the  sidewalk.  My  friend  the  waiter  called  my  attention  to 
the  man  and  in  an  awed  whisper  said,  "The  Marquis  of 
Westminster! "  I  sulkily  remarked,  "Oh,  damn  the  Marquis 
of  Westminster!"  The  waiter  flushed  and  angrily  retorted, 
"But  ye  can't,  ye  know;  he  owns  all  this  part  of  Lunnon!" 
After  that  our  relations  were  too  strained  to  allow  of  any 
further  social  intercourse.  But  as  I  was  under  orders  not  to 
make  any  promiscuous  acquaintances,  probably  it  was  just 
as  well  that  he  snubbed  me  when  I  attempted  to  resume 
friendly  chats  with  him.  We  Confederates  in  Europe  were 
very  secretive  and  mysterious.  The  higher  officers  traveled 
incog.,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  It  was  interesting  to  me  in 
after  years  to  read  Mr.  Charles  Francis  Adams's  letters  to 
his  Government,  from  which  I  learned  that  he  not  only 
knew  our  names,  but  probably  had  a  diagram  of  every 
plank  and  bolt  that  was  being  put  into  our  ships. 


ii2   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

On  the  4th  of  April,  1863,  I  received  an  order  to  go  to  a 
house  in  Little  St.  James's  Street  and  inquire  for  a  "Mr. 
Grigson,"  who  would  give  me  further  instructions.  When  I 
found  the  house  the  door  was  opened  by  a  pleasant-faced, 
middle-aged  woman  who  seemed  much  amused  when  I 
asked  for  "Mr.  Grigson."  She  replied,  laughing,  "You  will 
find  them  in  there,"  pointing  to  a  door.  From  her  language 
I  inferred  that  the  mysterious  Mr.  Grigson  was  not  so  sin- 
gular a  man  after  all;  evidently  there  must  be  more  than 
one  of  him.  Entering  the  room  indicated  I  found  myself  in 
the  presence  of  Lieutenants  Chapman  and  Evans,  who  had 
been  on  the  Sumter  when  she  was  fitted  out  in  New  Orleans 
two  years  previously,  and  Mr.  Ingraham,  a  son  of  the  com- 
modore, who  had  been  a  first  classman  when  I  was  at  An- 
napolis. These  gentlemen  were  also  laughing  and  told  me 
that  I  had  given  them  a  scare,  as  they  were  afraid  I  might 
be  a  detective.  I  asked  which  one  of  them  might  be  Mr. 
Grigson,  as  I  had  business  of  importance  to  transact  with 
that  gentleman?  Mr.  Chapman  answered  that  they  were 
all  Grigsons,  but  he  thought  he  was  a  good  enough  Grigson 
for  my  purposes.  He  handed  me  an  order  to  report  to  Com- 
mander William  L.  Maury,  and  when  I  asked  where  I 
should  find  that  officer,  he  told  me  that  if  I  would  stay  close 
to  him,  Chapman,  I  would  surely  meet  the  gentleman  very 
shortly.  I  was  then  told  to  return  to  the  hotel,  get  my  be- 
longings, and  return  to  Little  St.  James's  Street. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

White  Haven  —  The  active  tug  Alar  —  Meet  the  Japan,  which  turns  out  to 
he  the  Confederate  cruiser  Georgia  —  Ushant  Island  —  Break  neutrality  laws, 
and  away  to  sea  —  Hoist  Confederate  flag,  but  don't  use  it  much  —  Capture 
our  first  prize,  the  clipper  ship  Dictator  —  Treatment  of  prisoners  —  Cape 
Verde  Islands  —  Narrow  escape  from  U.S.S,  Mohican  —  Crew  of  Dictator  ship 
with  us  —  Chasing  ships. 

Returning  to  Little  St.  James's  Street  I  found  that 
Passed  Midshipman  Walker  had  joined  the  party,  and 
about  half-past  nine  that  evening  we  all  proceeded  to  a 
railway  station  where  we  took  a  train  for  White  Haven,  a 
little  seaport  about  an  hour's  ride  from  London.  There 
we  went  to  a  small  inn,  where  we  met  Commander  Maury, 
Dr.  Wheeden,  and  Paymaster  Curtis,  and  were  soon  joined 
by  others  —  all  strangers  to  me.  We  waited  at  the  inn  for 
about  a  couple  of  hours ;  there  was  little,  if  any,  conversa- 
tion, as  we  were  all  too  anxious  and  were  all  thinking  about 
the  same  thing.  In  those  two  hours  it  was  to  be  decided 
whether  our  expedition  was  to  be  a  success  or  a  failure.  If 
Mr.  Adams,  the  American  Minister,  was  going  to  get  in  his 
fine  work  and  balk  us,  now  was  his  last  opportunity. 

A  little  after  midnight,  two  by  two,  we  sauntered  down 
to  the  quay,  where  we  found  at  least  a  hundred  people 
gathered  near  a  little  sea-going  tug  called  the  Alar.  It  was 
blowing  a  gale  and  a  heavy  sea  was  rolling  in,  which  caused 
the  little  boat  to  bump  herself  viciously  against  the  stone 
dock,  so  that  but  for  her  ample  fenders  she  must  have 
stove  her  side  in.  We  hurried  on  board  and  Mr.  Chapman, 
taking  up  a  position  by  the  pilot  house,  said  to  the  crowd 
on  the  dock,  "Now,  men,  you  know  what  we  want  of  you; 
all  who  want  to  go  with  us  jump  aboard!"  About  sixty 
responded  to  the  invitation.  The  lines  were  cast  off  and  the 
Alar  shot  out  of  the  slip  as  a  man  on  shore  proposed  three 


ii4   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

cheers  for  the  Alabama,  which  were  lustily  responded  to 
by  our  fellow  passengers. 

As  we  cleared  the  end  of  the  docks  the  little  Alar  poked 
her  nose  into  a  huge  sea  and  tried  to  stand  erect  on  her 
stern,  but  not  being  able  to  accomplish  that  feat,  she  fell 
down  into  the  trough  and  the  next  wave  passed  over  her, 
drenching  to  the  skin  every  man  aboard.  She  next  tried  to 
hold  her  stern  in  the  air  while  she  stood  on  her  nose,  and 
when  the  foaming  sea  reached  her  pilot  house  she  rolled 
over  on  her  side  as  though  she  was  tired  and  wanted  to 
take  a  nap;  but  she  was  disturbed  by  another  comber  pick- 
ing her  up  and  slamming  her  down  on  the  other  side  with 
such  force  as  to  make  every  rib  in  her  tiny  body  quiver. 
There  were  no  secrets  in  that  contracted  space.  The  men 
aboard  were  supposed  to  be  the  crew  of  our  cruiser,  when 
we  found  her,  and  the  cargo  of  the  tug  consisted  of  our 
guns,  shipped  as  hardware  in  boxes,  and  our  ammunition. 
We  were  all  huddled  up  together,  and  plainly  heard  the 
engineer  tell  the  captain  that  one  more  sea  like  the  last  one 
which  came  aboard  would  put  out  the  fires.  For  more  than 
three  days  and  nights,  cold  and  wet,  with  no  place  to  sleep 
and  little  to  eat,  we  stumbled  and  tumbled  down  the  Eng- 
lish Channel.  When  the  gale  abated  at  last,  we  saw  on  the 
horizon  a  trim-looking  little  brig-rigged  steamer  idly  rolling 
on  the  swell  of  the  sea,  apparently  waiting  for  something, 
and  we  steered  for  her.  She  proved  to  be  the  British  (?) 
steamer  Japan;  her  papers  said  that  she  was  bound  from 
Glasgow  to  Nagasaki,  with  an  assorted  cargo,  but  we 
doubted  their  accuracy. 

Commodore  Matthew  F.  Maury,  who  had  bought  and 
fitted  out  this  ship,  just  completed  at  Dunbarton  on  the 
Clyde,  had  outwitted  the  British  Government,  but  not 
Mr.  Adams,  who  had  warned  the  authorities  of  her  charac- 
ter. How  the  British  Government  could  have  been  held 
responsible  for  her  escape  without  stopping  their  whole 
commerce  is  beyond  my  understanding.  The  vessel  had  not 


CAPTAIN   W.    L.    MAURY 

Commanding  the  Georgia 


Meet  the  Japan  115 

the  slightest  resemblance  to  a  man-of-war;  she  nominally 
belonged  to  a  private  party,  and  there  was  not  an  ounce 
of  contraband  in  her  cargo,  which  consisted  of  provisions, 
coal,  and  empty  boxes.  Her  captain  himself  did  not  know 
for  what  purpose  she  was  intended.  His  orders  were  to 
proceed  to  a  certain  latitude  and  longitude  near  the  island 
of  Ushant  on  the  French  coast,  where  a  tug  would  meet 
him  and  give  him  further  instructions  from  his  owner. 

When  we  had  approached  close  enough  to  the  Japan  to 
hail,  Captain  Maury  asked  her  captain  to  send  a  boat,  as 
he  had  a  communication  for  him.  Captain  Maury  then 
went  aboard  the  brig  and  what  passed  between  him  and 
her  skipper  of  course  I  had  no  means  of  knowing,  but  soon 
the  Japan  passed  us  a  hawser,  as  there  was  some  slight 
trouble  with  the  Alar's  engines  which  needed  immediate 
attention.  We  were  taken  in  tow,  and  no  sooner  did  the 
Japan  start  ahead  than  accident  number  one  occurred. 
The  hawser  became  entangled  in  the  Japan's  screw,  jam- 
ming it.  It  took  several  hours  to  cut  it  loose,  and  when  this 
was  finally  accomplished,  we  proceeded  to  Ushant,  going 
around  it  in  search  of  smooth  waters  so  that  we  could 
transfer  our  guns  from  the  tug  to  the  cruiser  that  was  to  be. 
We  dropped  anchor  after  dark  in  a  little  cove  and  com- 
menced operations,  despite  the  angry  protests  of  the  French 
coastguards  from  the  shore.  Judging  from  their  language 
they  must  have  been  furious  as  well  as  helpless. 

The  men  we  had  brought  from  White  Haven  worked 
most  energetically,  and  by  midnight  we  had  our  two  twenty- 
four-pounders  and  the  two  little  ten-pounder  Whitworth 
guns  on  board,  as  well  as  the  ammunition  and  the  trav- 
erses; but  unfortunately  the  sea  was  rising  all  the  time 
and  the  little  tug  alongside  was  pitching  and  rolling  so 
much  that  it  was  too  dangerous  to  attempt  to  get  the  big- 
gest gun,  a  thirty-two-pounder  Blakeley  rifle,  out  of  her. 
So  we  got  under  way  again  and  proceeded  to  the  mainland, 
not  many  miles  from  Brest,  a  great  naval  station  where  we 


n6        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

knew  a  French  fleet  was  assembled.  Working  like  beavers 
and  protected  by  a  headland  there,  we  finally  succeeded  in 
shifting  the  Blakeley  gun.  We  then  stood  out  to  sea,  where, 
after  we  had  got  safely  beyond  the  three-mile  limit,  we 
stopped.  Captain  Maury  called  all  hands  to  the  mast  and 
read  his  orders,  hoisted  the  Confederate  flag  and  his  pen- 
nant, and  declared  the  Confederate  States  cruiser  Georgia 
to  be  in  commission. 

His  remarks  were  received  with  three  lusty  cheers.  He 
then  asked  the  men  who  were  going  with  us  to  step  for- 
ward and  enlist  for  three  years  or  the  war,  but  alas,  a  sea- 
lawyer  had  been  at  work,  and  not  a  man  came  forward. 
The  spokesman  demanded  higher  wages  on  account  of  the 
dangers  of  the  service,  and  when  told  that  the  Georgia  was 
a  man-of-war  and  the  pay  was  fixed  by  law,  they,  to  a 
man,  went  over  the  side  and  boarded  the  tug.  To  our  sur- 
prise nine  men  of  the  crew  of  the  late  merchantman  Japan 
now  stepped  forward  and  said  they  would  like  to  go  with 
us,  and  of  course  they  were  accepted  at  once.  With  these 
men  as  a  nucleus  for  a  crew,  we  cast  off  the  Alar's  line  and 
never  saw  or  heard  of  her  or  the  men  on  board  of  her  again, 
and  never  wanted  to.  We  afterwards  learned  that  our  pres- 
ence at  Ushant  and  on  the  coast  of  France  had  been  sig- 
naled to  Brest  and  that  a  fast  frigate  had  been  sent  in  all 
haste  to  capture  us  for  our  breach  of  French  neutrality; 
but  we  never  saw  her. 

It  was  the  9th  of  April,  1863,  when  this  little  friendless 
ship  of  only  about  five  hundred  and  fifty  tons  started  on 
her  long  and  hazardous  cruise.  She  was  as  absolutely  un- 
fitted for  the  work  as  any  vessel  could  conceivably  be :  she 
lay  very  low  in  the  water  and  was  very  long  for  her  beam ; 
her  engines  were  gear  engines,  that  is,  a  large  wheel  fitted 
with  lignum-vitae  cogs  turned  the  iron  cogs  on  the  shaft, 
and  frequently  the  wooden  cogs  would  break.  When  they 
did  it  was  worse  than  if  a  shrapnel  shell  had  burst  in  the 
engine  room,  as  they  flew  in  every  direction,  endangering 


Away  to  Sea  117 

the  lives  of  every  one  within  reach.  Her  sail  power  was 
insufficient,  and,  owing  to  her  length,  it  was  impossible  to 
put  her  about  under  canvas.  She  was  slow  under  either 
sail  or  steam,  or  both  together.  Such  was  the  little  craft  in 
which  we  got  slowly  under  way,  bound  we  knew  not  where. 
Ushant  Island  bearing  east  southeast,  distant  four  and  a 
half  miles. 

The  morning  of  the  10th  of  April  dawned  fair,  with  light 
breezes  and  a  comparatively  smooth  sea,  and  officers  and 
men  set  to  work  fastening  to  the  deck  iron  traverses  for 
our  pivot  gun.  Then  came  a  most  difficult  job,  short- 
handed  as  we  were,  —  that  of  mounting  the  guns  on  their 
carriages;  and  to  add  to  our  troubles  the  sea  commenced 
to  rise.  With  all  the  most  intricate  and  ingenious  tackles 
our  seamanlike  first  lieutenant  could  devise,  it  was  an  awful 
strain  upon  us,  as  the  heavy  gun  swung  back  and  forth 
with  the  roll  of  the  ship.  However,  by  almost  superhu- 
man exertions  we  succeeded  in  getting  the  guns  into  their 
places  on  the  carriages;  then  we  felt  very  man-of-warrish 
indeed. 

Day  after  day,  with  a  pleasant  breeze,  we  steered  a  course 
somewhat  west  of  south,  meeting  but  few  ships,  and  those 
we  saw  displayed  neutral  colors  when  we  showed  them  the 
British  or  American  ensign.  During  the  whole  cruise  we 
saw  our  Confederate  flag  only  when  we  were  in  the  act  of 
making  a  capture  or  when  we  were  in  port.  Usually  we 
showed  strange  sails  the  Stars  and  Stripes.  On  April  25, 
there  being  several  sail  in  sight,  we  got  up  steam  and  made 
chase  after  them.  The  merchantmen  we  approached  one 
after  the  other  showed  us  neutral  colors  until  we  were  be- 
coming disheartened,  when  suddenly,  about  4  p.m.,  we 
descried  on  the  horizon  a  big  full-rigged  ship  with  long 
skysail  poles,  —  the  sure  sign  of  the  Yankee.  She  appeared 
unwilling  to  take  any  chances  with  us  and  cracked  on  more 
sail  while  we  pursued  her  under  steam.  A  little  after  five 
o'clock,  we  hauled  down  the  British  colors,  hoisted  the 


n8        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Confederate  flag,  and  sent  a  shot  bounding  over  the  water 
just  ahead  of  her,  which,  in  the  language  of  the  sea,  was  an 
order  to  heave  to.  In  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell,  the  main 
yard  of  the  doomed  ship  swung  around  and  her  sails  on  the 
main  and  mizzen  masts  were  thrown  aback  as  the  Ameri- 
can flag  was  broken  out  and  fluttered  from  her  peak.  We 
immediately  lowered  a  boat  and  our  second  lieutenant,  Mr. 
Evans,  accompanied  by  myself,  rowed  over  to  the  prize 
which  proved  to  be  the  splendid  ship  Dictator  of  between 
three  and  four  thousand  tons,  from  New  York  bound  to 
Hongkong  with  a  cargo  of  coal.  She  carried  no  passengers. 

After  looking  over  the  ship's  papers,  we  made  her  crew 
lower  their  own  boats  and  forced  the  captain,  his  three 
mates,  and  the  crew  of  twenty-seven  men  to  get  into  them 
with  their  personal  belongings.  We  then  ordered  them  to 
pull  for  the  Georgia,  which  they  did  with  no  enthusiasm 
whatever.  On  arriving  alongside  the  cruiser  they  were  al- 
lowed to  come  over  the  side  one  at  a  time,  and  were  then 
hurried  below  and  placed  in  irons.  It  was  not  considered 
advisable  to  give  them  time  enough  to  see  how  weak  our 
force  was.  The  captain  was  invited  by  our  commander  to 
share  the  cabin  with  him,  and  the  first  mate  was  confined 
in  my  room,  but  neither  of  them  had  any  restraint  put  on 
him  except  that  neither  was  allowed  to  go  forward  of  the 
mainmast,  or  to  hold  any  communication  with  the  men. 
On  board  the  Dictator  we  found  a  fine  assortment  of  pro- 
visions and  sent  several  boat  loads  to  our  own  ship.  This 
was  necessary  as  we  had  now  to  feed  the  prize's  crew  as 
well  as  our  own. 

The  Georgia  lay  near  the  Dictator  all  night,  and  in  the 
morning  we  attempted  to  replenish  our  coal  bunkers  from 
her,  but  the  rising  sea  made  this  impossible;  and  after 
coming  very  near  swamping  our  small  boats,  we  gave  it 
up.  It  seemed  hard  that  we  should  have  to  go  without  the 
fuel  so  precious  to  us  while  several  thousand  tons  of  the 
very  best  were  within  a  few  cables'  lengths  of  our  vessel. 


Our  First  Prize  119 

However,  it  might  as  well  have  been  in  the  mines  of  Penn- 
sylvania whence  it  came  for  all  the  good  it  was  to  us. 

The  Georgia  made  signal  to  burn  the  prize,  and  Lieu- 
tenant Evans  asked  me  if  I  would  like  to  try  my  hand  at 
setting  her  on  fire.  There  were  a  large  number  of  broken 
provision  boxes  lying  about  the  deck  which  I  gathered 
and,  placing  them  against  her  rail,  I  lighted  a  match  and 
applied  it.  The  kindling  wood  burned  beautifully,  but 
when  its  flames  expired  there  was  not  a  sign  of  fire  on  the 
side  of  the  ship.  I  was  surprised  and  puzzled,  and  turned 
to  seek  an  explanation  from  my  superior  officer,  who  was 
standing  near  by  fairly  convulsed  with  laughter.  He  told 
me  not  to  mind ;  he  would  show  me  how  it  was  done.  (He 
had  had  previous  experience  in  the  gentle  art  when  lieu- 
tenant with  Captain  Semmes  on  the  Sumter.)  I  followed 
him  into  the  cabin  where  he  pulled  out  several  drawers 
from  under  the  captain's  berth,  and,  filling  them  with  old 
newspapers,  he  applied  a  match.  The  effect  was  almost  in- 
stantaneous. Flames  leaped  up  and  caught  the  chintz  cur- 
tains of  the  berth  and  the  bedclothes,  at  the  same  time 
setting  fire  to  the  light  woodwork.  The  sight  fascinated 
me  and  I  stood  watching  it  as  though  I  was  dazed,  when 
suddenly  I  heard  the  lieutenant's  voice  call  excitedly:  "  Run, 
youngster,  run,  or  we  will  be  cut  off  from  the  door!"  We 
rushed  out,  followed  by  a  dense  smoke  and  leaping  flames, 
reaching  the  gangway  just  ahead  of  them,  and  hastily  went 
over  the  side  and  down  the  ladder  into  our  boat  which  was 
waiting  for  us.  By  the  time  we  reached  the  Georgia,  the 
prize  was  one  seething  mass  of  flames  from  her  hold  to 
her  trucks.  It  was  a  strange  and  weird  sight  to  see  the 
flames  leaping  up  her  tarred  rigging,  while  dense  volumes 
of  smoke,  lighted  up  by  fire  from  the  mass  of  coal  below, 
rolled  up  through  her  hatches. 

The  Dictator,  exclusive  of  her  cargo,  was  valued  at 
eighty-six  thousand  dollars.  By  decree  of  the  Confederate 
Government  we  were  to  receive  one  half  of  the  value  of 


120   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

every  ship  destroyed,  and  the  full  amount  of  the  bonds 
given  by  vessels  carrying  neutral  cargo.  Under  the  law 
regulating  the  distribution  of  prize  money  the  total  amount 
was  divided  into  twentieths  of  which  the  commanding  offi- 
cer got  two  and  the  steerage  officers  got  the  same,  the  rest 
being  shared  by  the  wardroom  officers  and  the  crew.  I 
being  the  only  midshipman,  or  steerage  officer,  on  board  of 
the  Georgia  for  most  of  the  cruise,  the  amount  of  prize 
money  (still  due  me)  which  I  should  have  received  would 
have  almost  equaled  the  share  of  the  captain. 

When  we  parted  company  with  the  burning  Dictator 
we  had  hardly  got  well  under  way  when  the  always  exciting 
"Sail  ho!"  was  heard  coming  from  the  masthead  look- 
out followed  by  the  officer  of  the  deck's  query,  "Where 
away?"  and  the  answer,  "Two  points  off  the  port  bow, 
sir!"  Away  we  dashed  in  chase,  only  to  be  disappointed 
again  and  again  when  the  chase  showed  neutral  colors.  If 
we  had  any  cause  to  suspect  that  they  were  not  what  their 
colors  represented  them  to  be  we  boarded  them  and  ex- 
amined their  papers.  Strange  sail  were  plentiful,  but  no 
American  craft  among  them.  One  day  we  chased  a  paddle- 
wheel  bark-rigged  steamer;  it  seemed  rather  strange  that 
we  should  overhaul  her  so  rapidly,  but  when  we  got  near 
to  her  we  discovered  that  her  engines  were  disconnected 
and  that  her  paddles  were  being  turned  by  her  momentum 
through  the  water.  We  had  the  British  flag  proudly  fly- 
ing at  our  peak,  and  suddenly  we  made  another  discov- 
ery; she  was  a  man-of-war!  Suddenly  she  broke  out  her 
ensign  and  there  we  saw  the  British  Union  Jack!  The 
way  that  British  flag  came  down  from  our  peak  and  was 
replaced  by  the  Confederate  flag  looked  like  legerdemain. 
The  Englishman  then  dipped  his  colors  to  us  —  a  cour- 
tesy that  we  very  much  appreciated  and  which  we  re- 
turned with  great  satisfaction,  as  it  was  the  first  salute  of 
any  kind  we  had  received. 

On  the  29th  of  April,  at  about  three  bells  in  the  forenoon 


Narrow  Escape  from  U.S.S.  Mohican      121 

watch,  we  found  ourselves  near  the  island  of  San  Antonio, 
one  of  the  Cape  Verdes.  With  all  sail  set  we  bowled  along 
before  a  stiff  northeast  trade  wind  which  soon  brought  us 
in  between  San  Antonio  and  the  island  of  St.  Vincent,  where 
the  high  land  on  either  beam  acted  as  a  funnel  for  the  trade 
wind  which  now  increased  to  a  gale.  We  shot  by  a  promon- 
tory and  there  before  our  eyes  we  saw  the  town  and  har- 
bor of  Porto  Grande,  and  there  also  we  saw  lying  peacefully 
at  her  anchor  a  sloop-of-war,  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes 
fluttering  from  her  peak!  Instantly  everybody  on  our  ship 
was  in  a  state  of  excitement  and  commotion.  The  officer 
of  the  deck  gave  the  order  "Hard-a-port!"  quickly  fol- 
lowed in  rapid  succession  through  his  speaking-trumpet  by 
"Main  clew  garnets  and  buntlines!"  —  "Haul  taut!"  — 
"Up  courses!"  — "T 'gallant  and  topsail  halyards!"  — 
"Let  go!"  —  "Haul  down!"  —  "Clew  up!"  —  "All  hands 
furl  sail!"  —  and  officers  and  men  rushed  aloft  and,  work- 
ing like  Trojans,  soon  had  her  under  bare  poles.  Four  bells 
were  rung  for  full  speed  ahead,  and  the  little  ship  gallantly 
breasted  the  high  sea  in  the  face  of  the  half-gale  of  wind; 
but  neither  patent  log  nor  the  old-fashioned  chip-and-line 
could  be  persuaded  to  show  more  than  four  knots  speed. 

Captain  Maury  was  evidently  very  anxious  and  sent  for 
the  English  chief  engineer  and  asked  him  if  that  was  the 
best  he  could  do.  The  chief  said  he  thought  it  was.  Cap- 
tain Maury  then  told  him  that  if  the  American  man-of-war 
was  the  Mohican,  as  he  thought  she  was,  he  had  served  on 
board  of  her  and  she  could  make  seven  knots  an  hour  easily 
against  that  sea  and  wind  —  and  significantly  added,  "You 
know  that  being  caught  means  hanging  with  us  according 
to  Mr.  Lincoln's  proclamation!" 

The  chief  disappeared  below  and  in  a  few  minutes  our 
improvement  in  speed  was  remarkable.  We  were  gratified 
as  well  as  surprised  when  we  found  that  we  were  not  being 
pursued.  We  afterwards  learned  that  the  sloop-of-war, 
not  expecting  a  visit  from  us  at  such  an  unconventional 


122   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

hour,  had  let  her  steam  go  down  and  could  not  get  under 
way  until  she  got  it  up  again.  We  ran  around  the  island 
and,  finding  a  cove,  anchored  near  the  shore,  sending  a 
lieutenant  ashore  to  climb  the  promontory,  from  which 
lofty  point  of  vantage,  with  the  aid  of  his  marine  glasses, 
he  plainly  saw  our  would-be  captor  steaming  out  to  sea  in 
the  opposite  direction  from  our  snug  hiding-place.  If  she 
had  sighted  us  it  is  easy  to  imagine  what  would  have  hap- 
pened, as  she  carried  ten  guns  —  all  of  which  were  much 
heavier  than  our  biggest  piece  of  ordnance  —  and  the  little 
Georgia  had  more  than  twice  as  many  prisoners  on  board 
of  her  as  she  had  crew.  In  fact,  our  crew  would  not  have 
been  sufficient  in  numbers  to  handle  and  serve  our  forward 
pivot  gun. 

When  night  came  we  weighed  anchor  and  put  to  sea  and 
the  next  morning  were  busily  engaged  chasing  and  exam- 
ining ships.  Sometimes  we  would  "  bring  to  "  an  American, 
then  be  disappointed  because  he  had  changed  his  flag,  and 
his  papers  as  a  neutral  would  be  all  correct.  Most  neutral 
vessels  feared  us,  and  as  soon  as  they  suspected  our  character 
would  attempt  to  escape,  thus  causing  us  much  unnecessary 
burning  of  coal.  Few  of  them  appeared  to  be  friendly  to  us, 
and  when  asked  for  news  seemed  delighted  when  they  had 
the  courage  to  tell  us  some  rigmarole  about  great  disasters 
to  the  Confederate  armies  which  they  invented  for  the  oc- 
casion. Some  few  gave  us  newspapers  and  kindly  told  us 
the  truth  as  to  what  had  happened  before  they  left  port  in 
the  world  from  which  we  were  excluded. 

It  was  a  fortunate  thing  for  us  that  we  had  not  been  able 
to  land  our  prisoners  in  the  Cape  Verde  islands,  as  we  had 
intended  to  do.  We  had  treated  these  unfortunates  kindly; 
they  received  the  same  rations  our  own  men  did,  and  one 
half  of  them  were  released  from  their  irons  and  allowed  to 
roam  around  the  deck  in  the  daytime.  They  must  have  be- 
come attached  to  us,  for  first  one  man  and  then  another 
asked  to  be  permitted  to  talk  to  our  first  lieutenant,  and 


Crew  of  Dictator  ship  with  us  123 

when  this  was  granted,  would  request  to  be  allowed  to 
ship  aboard.  To  our  surprise  the  second  and  third  mates 
and  the  twenty-seven  seamen  joined  us  and  afterwards 
proved  to  be  among  the  very  best  men  we  had. 

The  captain  of  the  Dictator  had  shared  Captain  Maury's 
cabin  and  seemed  a  very  nice  man,  but  the  first  mate  was 
of  a  very  different  type.  He  was  quartered  in  my  state- 
room, while  I  had  to  sleep  in  a  hammock  slung  out  in  the 
steerage.  He  took  his  meals  with  me  and  was  allowed  to 
take  his  exercise  on  the  poop  deck.  Of  course  neither  he 
nor  the  captain  was  subjected  to  the  inconvenience  of  hav- 
ing irons  put  on  them;  but  Mr.  Snow,  the  first  mate,  repaid 
our  consideration  by  writing  the  story  of  his  capture  and 
"inhuman"  treatment  by  the  "pirates"  on  board  the 
Georgia.  He  placed  this  romance  in  a  bottle  which  he 
corked  tightly  and  sealed  with  sealing-wax  which  he  bor- 
rowed from  me;  then  he  threw  it  out  of  the  air-port  in  hopes 
that  it  would  drift  ashore.  It  did.  Years  after  the  war  was 
over  it  was  picked  up  on  the  coast  of  Norway,  and  its  lying 
contents  were  published  to  the  world. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

The  Doldrums  —  Water-spouts  —  Bahia  —  Meet  the  Alabama  —  Changing 
of  the  Confederate  flag  —  Corsairos  —  Brazilian  ball  —  Midshipman  Anderson 
makes  a  pillow  out  of  Captain  Semmes  —  U.S.S.  Niagara  and  Mohican  on  our 
trail  —  "Does  he  want  his  pretty  paint  spoiled?"  —  Refused  permission  to 
depart  after  4  p.m.  —  Brazilian  battery  fires  one  shot  as  we  pass  out. 

Chasing  ships  without  making  any  captures  was  getting 
to  be  a  little  monotonous.  Some  of  the  vessels  we  halted 
had  captains  who  were  cross  and  ugly  about  being  detained 
while  we  examined  their  papers,  while  others  seemed  to 
enjoy  the  adventure  of  being  held  up  by  a  "pirate"  and 
showed  our  boarding  officers  every  hospitality  in  the  way 
of  wines,  liquors,  and  cigars.  We  passed  close  to  a  man-of- 
war  and  showed  her  our  true  colors,  which  attention  she 
reciprocated  by  running  up  the  British  flag  and  dipping 
it  to  us.  Every  time  this  occurred  we  would  congratulate 
ourselves,  insisting  that  the  mere  courtesy  constituted  a 
recognition  of  the  Confederate  States. 

Exactly  where  we  were,  the  captain  and  the  navigator 
alone  knew.  The  old  sailors  told  me  that  we  were  in  the 
"doldrums"  —  as  they  call  that  portion  of  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  which  lies  in  the  equatorial  belt  extending  from 
about  ten  degrees  north  of  the  Equator  to  the  same  dis- 
tance south  of  it:  this  they  knew  by  the  baffling  winds, 
squalls  from  every  point  of  the  compass,  and  "Irishmen's 
hurricanes,"  as  they  call  dead  calms.  Another  unfailing 
sign  to  them  was  the  numerous  great  waterspouts  whirling 
around  in  every  direction.  To  see  one  of  these  spouts  in 
process  of  formation  is  indeed  a  wonderful  sight  —  first 
the  whirlwind  on  the  surface  of  the  sea  and  the  eddying 
of  a  cloud  above,  then  the  formation  of  the  column  of  water 
twisting  and  swaying  like  the  body  of  some  huge  serpent 
as  it  rises  out  of  the  sea,  the  loud,  roaring  sound  and  the 
great  commotion  of  the  water  around  it  until  it  has  as- 


Bahia  125 

cended  to  a  great  height,  and  then  the  most  extraordinary 
part  of  all,  when  the  cloud  above  sends  down  a  similar  col- 
umn of  whirling  water  and  the  two,  with  unerring  accuracy, 
join  and  complete  the  awe-inspiring  funnel.  On  one  occa- 
sion one  of  these  spouts  was  making  so  straight  for  us  that 
we  fired  one  of  the  guns  to  burst  it,  for  had  it  come  aboard 
the  little  Georgia  it  would  have  instantly  swamped  her. 

One  night  —  in  the  morning  watch,  just  before  daylight 
—  an  old  sailor  said  to  me,  "We  are  near  land,  sir."  I 
asked  him  how  he  knew  and  he  told  me  to  feel  how  wet  the 
deck  was  with  dew;  and  although  the  sea  was  smooth,  the 
stars  shining  brightly,  and  the  ship  becalmed,  I  found 
the  deck  as  wet  as  though  water  had  been  poured  over 
it.  The  old  "shellback"  then  informed  me  that  dew  never 
extended  more  than  thirty  miles  from  land.  This  was  news 
to  me,  but  I  found  that  the  Jack  Tar  was  right. 

In  the  middle  of  the  night  of  May  13-14,  we  entered 
the  great  Bay  of  Todos  os  Santos,  or  All  Saints'  Bay,  and 
dropped  anchor  in  front  of  the  Brazilian  city  of  Bahia,  a 
picturesque  place  situated  on  a  high  bluff  overlooking  the 
bay.  There  were  many  vessels  anchored  near  us,  and  the 
practiced  eyes  of  our  senior  lieutenants  pronounced  two  of 
them  to  be  men-of-war;  but  of  course  their  nationality 
could  not  be  made  out  in  the  darkness.  We  had  good  rea- 
son, had  we  known,  for  feeling  anxious  about  them,  for  it 
was  in  this  same  harbor,  a  few  months  after  our  visit,  that 
the  Confederate  cruiser  Florida  was  lying,  as  her  comman- 
der thought,  in  peaceful  security.  So  much  at  ease  was  he 
that  he  had  given  half  his  crew  liberty,  which  they  were 
enjoying  on  shore  when  the  U.S.S.  Wachusett,  disregard- 
ing Brazilian  neutrality,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  rammed, 
boarded,  and  captured  her,  carrying  her  to  Hampton 
Roads  where  she  was  sunk  to  avoid  having  to  give  her  up 
on  the  demand  of  Brazil  that  she  be  returned  to  Bahia. 

There  was  little, sleep  on  the  Georgia  the  night  of  our 
arrival.    Day  broke  and  we  found  ourselves  very  near  the 


126        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

two  men-of-war.  What  was  their  nationality?  It  seemed 
an  age  before  the  hour  for  colors  arrived,  but  when  it  did, 
to  our  great  delight,  the  most  rakish-looking  of  the  two 
warships  broke  out  the  Stars  and  Bars!  "It  is  the  Ala- 
bama!" we  gasped,  and  commenced  to  dance  with  delight. 
The  officers  hugged  one  another,  each  embracing  a  man 
of  his  own  rank,  except  the  captain  and  myself.  Like  the 
commander,  I  was  the  only  one  of  my  rank  aboard,  so  I 
hugged  myself. 

The  Confederate  Government  had  changed  its  flag  since 
we  had  left  home,  and  the  Stars  and  Bars  had  given  way  to 
the  white  field  with  a  St.  Andrew's  cross  which  we  fondly 
believed  represented  the  Southern  Cross.  The  Alabama  had 
not  yet  heard  of  the  change,  and  we  furnished  the  anoma- 
lous and  embarrassing  spectacle  of  two  warships  belonging 
to  the  same  Government  and  flying  flags  which  bore  no 
resemblance  to  each  other!  Fortunately  the  new  flag  was 
not  a  difficult  one  to  make,  and  the  Alabama's  sailors  soon 
had  the  new  colors  proudly  fluttering  from  her  peak. 

Captain  Semmes,  of  the  Alabama,  being  the  ranking  offi- 
cer, our  captain  quickly  got  into  his  gig  and  went  on  board 
the  famous  ship  to  pay  his  respects.  The  other  man-of-war 
proved  to  be  a  Portuguese  sloop,  very  small,  and  carrying 
sixteen  little  popguns. 

As  soon  as  we  arrived  in  neutral  waters  our  prisoners, 
the  captain  and  the  first  mate  of  the  Dictator,  were  told 
that  they  were  free  and  were  sent  ashore  in  the  first  boat. 
The  American  Consul  demanded  that  the  rest  of  the  crew 
of  the  burnt  ship  should  be  delivered  up  to  him,  and,  rather 
than  have  trouble  with  the  Brazilian  Government  we  told 
the  men  they  could  go  ashore.  This  they  did,  and  some  of 
the  rascals  went  to  the  American  Consul  and  told  him  a 
tale  of  woe  and  got  everything  possible  out  of  him.  With 
the  prisoners  landed  from  the  Alabama  they  had  a  royal 
time  ashore  for  several  days;  but,  strange  to  say,  when  we 
got  to  sea  there  they  all  were  on  our  decks!    They  had 


MIDSHIPMAN"   MORGAN 

While  attached  to  the  Cruiser  Georgia,  1S63 


Meet  the  Alabama  127 

smuggled  themselves  aboard  the  Georgia  with  the  conni- 
vance of  our  crew  and  had  remained  hidden  until  we  were 
outside  of  Brazilian  jurisdiction. 

The  Alabama  had  recently  fought  and  sunk  the  U.S.S. 
Hatteras  off  Galveston,  and  as  soon  as  possible  I  went  on 
board  the  pride  of  the  Confederate  Navy  to  see  the  mid- 
shipmen. There  were  four  of  them  —  Irving  Bulloch,  an 
uncle  of  Theodore  Roosevelt;  Eugene  Maffitt,  son  of  that 
captain  of  the  Florida,  who,  while  ill  with  the  yellow  fever, 
ran  her  through  the  blockading  fleet  off  Mobile  in  broad 
daylight  —  taking  their  broadsides  as  he  passed  and  finally 
anchoring  his  much-cut-up  ship  under  the  protecting  guns 
of  Fort  Morgan.  There  was  also  William  St.  Clair,  and  my 
dear  friend  Edward  M.  Anderson,  who  is  still  living  (19 16). 
The  holes  in  the  Alabama's  side  and  the  scars  on  her  deck 
where  the  shot  from  the  Hatteras  had  ripped  them  were 
still  fresh,  and  I  heard  the  story  of  the  battle  at  first  hand. 
Of  course  the  midshipmen's  account  of  the  fight  was  the 
one  which  interested  me  most.  When  one  has  heard  their 
story,  one  wonders  why  Captain  Homer  Blake,  of  the  Hat- 
teras, never  received  more  credit  for  his  gallant  fight.  He 
fought  his  ship  until  the  muzzles  of  his  guns  were  almost 
on  a  level  with  the  sea  and  she  was  about  to  disappear  be- 
neath the  waves  forever. 

Captain  Semmes  was  a  fine  Spanish  scholar,  but  did  not 
speak  Portuguese,  the  national  language  of  Brazil.  As  I 
could  speak  French  fluently  he  borrowed  me  from  Captain 
Maury  to  carry  communications  to  the  governor  of  Bahia, 
who,  like  most  educated  South  Americans,  spoke  French 
perfectly.  The  American  Consul  protested  against  our  be- 
ing allowed  to  replenish  our  coal  bunkers  from  the  British 
bark  Castor  which  lay  near  us.  To-day  (191 6)  the  meeting 
of  colliers  and  warships  at  appointed  rendezvous  is  sup- 
posed to  be  an  invention  of  the  Germans;  but  colliers  fol- 
lowed, or  were  supposed  to  be  where  the  Alabama  and 
Georgia  would  need  them.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  they  were 


128   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

rarely  on  time,  but  as  they  were  sailing  vessels  there  was 
some  excuse  for  them.  The  Castor  was  under  contract  to 
deliver  us  the  coal  and  the  coal  was  our  property,  paid  for 
by  the  Confederate  agent  in  England;  on  the  protest  of 
the  United  States  Consul,  however,  the  governor  refused 
to  allow  us  to  coal  from  her.  We  then  made  a  "sale"  of 
part  of  the  cargo  to  a  native  merchant,  had  it  put  ashore, 
and  then  "bought"  it  from  him.  Of  course  the  native  was 
well  paid  for  his  trouble,  and  the  probability  is  that  the 
officials  got  their  rake-off  from  the  transaction. 

Brazil  was  a  slave-owning  country  at  that  time,  but  the 
natives  seemed  to  fear  and  avoid  us,  and  as  we  would  pass 
through  the  streets  we  could  hear  the  negro  nurses  threaten 
crying  children  that  they  would  be  carried  off  by  the  "cor- 
sairos"  if  they  were  not  good.  An  English  engineer  who 
was  building  a  railroad  into  the  interior  was  the  only  per- 
son in  Bahia  who  showed  us  any  attention  or  hospitality. 
He  invited  the  officers  of  the  Alabama  and  Georgia  to  go 
on  an  excursion  on  his  unfinished  railroad.  The  country 
through  which  it  passed  was  rich  and  beautiful,  and  at  the 
end  of  the  finished  line  our  officers  were  regaled  with  all 
sorts  of  good  things  to  eat  and  drink.  On  returning  to 
Bahia  he  invited  us  to  a  dance  to  be  given  at  his  residence 
that  night,  and  naturally  as  many  of  the  officers  as  could 
be  spared  from  duty  accepted.  The  ball  was  quite  a  swell 
affair;  all  the  British  colony  were  there,  of  course,  and 
many  Brazilian  ladies;  they  came  from  curiosity,  but 
nothing  could  induce  them  to  risk  dancing  with  the  "  cor- 
sairos."  This,  of  course,  made  us  youngsters  imagine  that 
we  looked  rather  formidable. 

Shortly  after  midnight  we  said  good-night  to  our  host 
and  hostess  and  such  of  the  guests  as  were  not  afraid  to 
speak  to  us,  and  proceeded  to  the  quay  where  Captain 
Semmes's  gig  was  waiting  for  him.  The  cutters  from  the 
Alabama  and  Georgia,  which  were  to  take  the  officers  to 
their  respective  ships,  had  not  yet  come  for  us,  and  we 


Midshipman  Anderson's  Pillow  129 

thought  we  saw  before  us  a  long  wait ;  but  Captain  Semmes 
very  kindly  invited  us  to  crowd  into  his  gig,  saying  that 
after  she  put  him  aboard  of  the  Alabama  she  would  take 
those  of  us  belonging  to  the  Georgia  to  our  ship.  On  our 
way  to  the  Alabama,  Midshipman  Anderson,  the  captain's 
personal  aide,  who  had  had  a  rather  strenuous  day  of  it, 
fell  asleep.  He  was  seated  alongside  of  his  commanding 
officer  and  his  head  fell  on  the  captain's  shoulder.  Lieu- 
tenant Armstrong,  who  was  seated  opposite  him,  was 
about  to  reach  over  and  awaken  Anderson,  but  Captain 
Semmes  by  a  gesture  stopped  him,  saying,  "Let  the  boy 
sleep;  he  is  tired  out."  Had  Anderson  been  awake  he  would 
rather  have  dropped  his  head  in  the  ship's  furnace  than 
on  Captain  Semmes's  shoulder,  for  the  captain  was  not  a 
man  with  whom  any  one  would  care  to  take  liberties.  As 
it  was,  however,  Ned  had  the  honor  of  being  the  only  man 
who  ever  made  a  pillow  out  of  "old  Beeswax"  as  Semmes 
was  called  behind  his  back. 

Captain  Semmes  was  an  austere  and  formal  man,  and, 
with  the  exception  of  Dr.  Gait,  the  surgeon,  and  Mr.  Kell, 
his  first  lieutenant,  he  rarely  held  any  intercourse  with  his 
officers  except  officially.  He  waxed  the  ends  of  his  mustache 
(which  the  sailors  called  his  "st'unsail  booms")  and  he 
would  pace  his  quarter-deck,  alone,  twisting  and  retwisting 
those  long  ends.  He  reminded  one  of  Byron's  description  of 
the  captain  of  a  man-of-war  in  "Childe  Harold":  — 

"Look  on  that  part  which  sacred  doth  remain 
For  the  lone  chieftain,  who  majestic  stalks, 
Silent  and  feared  by  all  —  not  oft  he  talks 
With  aught  beneath  him,  if  he  would  preserve 
That  strict  restraint,  which,  broken,  ever  balks 
Conquest  and  fame.  ..." 

Captain  Semmes  was  a  past-master  in  the  art  of  dealing 
with  Latin-Americans.  When  the  Alabama  entered  the 
port  of  Bahia,  the  governor  sent  an  aide,  attired  in  mufti,  to 
demand  that  Captain  Semmes  show  his  commission.   Cap- 


130   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

tain  Semmes  fixed  his  steely  eyes  on  the  visitor,  and  then 
quietly  demanded  that  the  gentleman  first  show  his  own, 
and  his  authority  for  making  the  demand.  Naturally  the 
aide-de-camp  had  not  had  the  forethought  to  provide  him- 
self with  either,  so  he  took  his  departure.  As  he  left  the 
cabin,  Captain  Semmes  kindly  suggested  that  if  the  gentle- 
man wished  to  be  treated  courteously  on  his  next  visit,  it 
would  be  advisable  to  wear  his  uniform.  Of  course  the  aide 
shortly  came  back,  properly  costumed,  and  with  his  com- 
mission in  his  pocket,  and  also  a  courteous  request  that 
Captain  Semmes  would  call  at  the  palace  and  show  his  com- 
mission to  the  governor  in  person.  No  man  knew  better 
than  Captain  Semmes  that  he  who  attempts  to  enter  into 
a  bowing  contest  with  a  Latin-American  is  lost. 

Shortly  before  we  left  Bahia  a  coasting  steamer  entered 
the  port,  bringing  the  news  that  the  United  States  ships 
Niagara  and  Mohican  were  either  at  Pernambuco,  a  short 
run  to  the  north,  or  else  on  their  way  south,  in  search 
of  us.  Whether  this  information  had  any  influence  on  our 
movements  or  not,  of  course  a  midshipman  could  not  be 
expected  to  know;  but  all  the  same  we  got  ready  to  de- 
part. The  Niagara  carried  twelve  eleven-inch  pivot  guns, 
which  enabled  her  to  fight  them  all  on  either  side.  She  was 
designed  by  Steers  on  the  lines  of  the  famed  yacht  America, 
of  which  also  he  was  the  designer;  and  the  Niagara,  although 
a  steamer,  had  shown  marvelous  speed  under  sail.  She  had 
accompanied  the  British  fleet  across  the  Atlantic  when  the 
first  Atlantic  cable  had  been  laid,  and  it  was  of  her  that 
Admiral  Milne  spoke  when  he  wrote  to  the  British  Admir- 
alty from  on  board  his  seventy-two-gun  line-of-battle  ship 
that  he  was  in  company  with  a  sloop-of-war  which  carried 
only  twelve  guns,  but  could  outrun  his  line-of-battle  ship 
and  whip  her  when  caught.  Consequently  there  was  no 
doubt  on  the  part  of  any  of  us  that  the  Niagara  could  clear 
the  South  Atlantic  Ocean  of  Alabamas  and  Georgias. 

When  this  news  concerning  the  Niagara  and  her  consort 


Refused  Permission  to  depart  131 

reached  the  port  we  had  not  finished  coaling,  and  the  na- 
tives, who  had  seemed  so  anxious  to  be  rid  of  our  presence, 
now  appeared  to  seek  for  excuses  to  delay  our  departure. 
Having  transferred  some  five  hundred  pounds  of  powder 
from  the  Georgia  to  the  Alabama,  as  the  latter  ship  had 
used  up  some  of  her  very  short  supply  in  her  fight  with  the 
Hatteras,  in  the  forenoon  of  May  22  Captain  Semmes  sent 
me  with  a  verbal  message  to  the  governor  informing  him 
that  he  would  sail  at  half-past  four  that  afternoon.  While 
I  was  standing  respectfully  before  the  governor  awaiting 
his  answer,  the  captain  of  the  little  white  Portuguese  sloop 
was  striding  up  and  down  the  room  with  a  fierce  expression 
on  his  face.  Finally  the  governor  told  me  to  tell  Captain 
Semmes  that  the  Alabama  would  not  be  permitted  to  de- 
part at  that  hour,  as  the  port  regulations  did  not  allow  ves- 
sels to  depart  after  four  o'clock;  and  the  Portuguese  cap- 
tain said  to  the  governor,  in  French  (evidently  for  my  bene- 
fit), that  if  the  governor  wanted  the  "corsairs"  stopped,  he 
would  stop  them  for  him !  When  I  repeated  this  remark  to 
Captain  Semmes,  he  only  smiled  and  said,  "Does  he  want 
his  pretty  white  paint  spoiled?" 

Captain  Semmes  then  sent  me  back  to  the  governor  with 
a  message  to  the  effect  that  the  port  regulation  applied  only 
to  merchant  vessels  and  that  the  Alabama  and  Georgia 
were  men-of-war.  At  4  p.m.  the  Alabama  fired  a  gun  as  a 
signal  to  one  of  her  boats  to  come  aboard  and  at  once  com- 
menced to  weight  anchor.  We  could  see  from  our  deck  a 
company  of  soldiers  trotting  at  the  double-quick  down  to 
an  obsolete  water  battery,  where  the  old-fashioned  rust- 
eaten  cannon  were  mostly  mounted  in  an  extraordinary 
fashion,  their  muzzles  resting  on  the  parapet  and  their 
breeches  supported  on  logs  of  wood.  On  board  the  Portu- 
guese corvette  there  also  seemed  to  be  great  excitement,  as 
they  beat  to  quarters  with  such  a  racket  that  every  man 
aboard  seemed  to  be  giving  orders  or  directions  to  some  one 
else.    At  exactly  half-past  four  the  Alabama  hoisted  her 


132   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

boat,  weighed  anchor,  and  slowly  got  under  way;  then, 
turning  around,  and  hoisting  her  flag  at  the  main,  she  steered 
for  the  Portuguese.  She  passed  so  close  to  that  vessel  that  I 
thought  for  a  moment  their  yards  would  crash  together, 
but  the  Portuguese  allowed  her  to  pass  by  without  moles- 
tation.   It  was  none  of  her  business  anyhow! 

When  we  followed  the  Alabama  out,  we  passed  very  close 
to  the  water  battery  where  the  men  were  standing  at  their 
guns,  but  not  a  shot  was  fired  until  we  were  at  least  a  mile 
and  a  half  away,  when  we  saw  a  puff  of  smoke  and  immedi- 
ately afterwards  a  shot  skipped  over  the  placid  waters  of 
the  bay,  falling  half  a  mile  short  of  us.  We  wondered  how 
many  men  in  the  fort  had  been  killed,  for  it  was  a  brave 
and  reckless  act  to  fire  one  of  those  guns.  We  did  not  reply, 
as  we  did  not  know  how  soon  it  might  be  necessary  for  us 
again  to  enter  a  Brazilian  port. 

As  we  passed  out  of  the  Bay  of  Todos  os  Santos  it  was 
wrapped  in  the  golden  splendors  of  the  most  gorgeous  sun- 
set it  has  ever  been  my  good  fortune  to  behold. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"Tempest  in  a  teapot"  —  Capture  clipper  ship  George  Griswold  of  New 
York  —  Burn  bark  Good  Hope  of  Boston  —  Funeral  at  sea  —  Bark  Seaver 
goes  to  assistance  of  the  Good  Hope  and  is  captured  —  Transfer  prisoners  to 
the  Seaver. 

We  followed  in  the  track  of  the  Alabama  down  the 
Brazilian  coast.  The  weather  overhead  was  fine,  but  sud- 
denly a  terrific  tempest  broke  loose  out  of  our  mess  teapot, 
a  piece  of  crockery  which  had  been  bought  by  the  joint 
funds  of  Passed  Midshipman  Walker  and  myself.  Mr. 
Walker  had  been  promoted  to  the  dignity  of  a  quarter-deck 
watch  recently.  Unfortunately  I  was  the  only  line  officer 
he  ranked,  and  he  never  allowed  me  to  forget  the  fact.  My 
position  on  board  reminded  me  of  the  story  of  the  old  sailor 
who,  in  spinning  a  yarn,  had  told  how  every  man  in  the 
navy  ranked  some  one  else,  but,  catching  sight  of  the 
"powder-monkey,"  he  added:  "Except  you,  Jacky!" 
whereupon  Jacky  retorted,  "Yes,  I  does;  I  rank  Dennis," 
—  Dennis  being  the  name  of  the  pig  who  enjoyed  the  envi- 
able position  of  mascot  and  pet  of  the  whole  ship's  crew. 

The  cause  of  the  hurricane  bursting  out  of  the  teapot  was 
my  ordering  the  steerage  steward  to  make  me  some  choco- 
late, which  he  served  in  the  teapot.  The  passed  midship- 
man, passing  through  the  steerage,  smelled  the  odor,  very 
peremptorily  demanded  to  know  by  whose  orders  chocolate 
had  been  put  into  that  teapot,  and,  on  being  informed  that 
I  was  the  culprit,  he  told  me  that  he  would  attend  to  my 
case  as  soon  as  he  came  off  watch.  It  was  the  first  dog- 
watch that  he  was  keeping  —  I  was  impatient  for  it  to  be 
over.  I  went  at  last  out  on  the  deck  and  walked  up  and 
down  under  the  waist  boats  so  that  I  should  be  on  hand 
when  it  was  over.  At  last  eight  bells  sounded,  and  after 
being  relieved  from  the  deck  the  passed  midshipman  came 


134   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

down  from  the  poop  and  was  about  to  proceed  to  his  quar- 
ters when  I  stopped  him  and  told  him  that  I  had  stood  all 
I  intended  to  stand.  Then  I  struck  him.  We  fought  all  over 
the  deck  and  the  men  ran  aft  making  a  circle  around  us, 
urging  us  on.  The  officer  of  the  deck  came  to  part  us,  but 
the  men  crowded  so  that  he  could  not  get  to  us.  He  then 
ran  into  the  wardroom,  returning  accompanied  by  all  the 
officers,  who,  with  their  side  arms,  drove  the  men  forward 
and  proceeded  to  separate  the  combatants.  The  first  lieu- 
tenant then  marched  us  into  the  presence  of  the  captain, 
who  placed  us  both  under  close  arrest,  but  not  for  long ;  the 
ship  was  too  short  of  officers,  and  while  Walker's  confine- 
ment gave  the  watch  officers  extra  duty,  as  the  only  mid- 
shipman on  board  I  had  a  great  deal  of  unpleasant  work 
which  some  officer  had  to  attend  to  during  my  incarceration, 
such  as  boat  duty,  acting  as  master's  mate  of  the  berth 
deck,  and  superintending  the  issuing  of  the  grog  ration, 
besides  my  regular  watch  on  the  forecastle.  So  kind  influ- 
ence was  used  in  our  behalf,  —  of  course,  disinterested,  — 
and  our  captain,  who  was  a  most  good-hearted  and  amiable 
gentleman,  let  us  off  and  restored  us  to  duty  after  a  week's 
confinement  and  a  lecture. 

We  were  beginning  to  think  that  the  Alabama  had  cleared 
up  all  the  Yankee  merchantmen  in  that  part  of  the  ocean, 
when  one  day  we  spied  a  ship  with  the  unmistakable  long 
skysail  poles  and  brought  her  to.  She  proved  to  be  the 
American  ship  Prince  of  Wales,  but  as  she  had  a  neutral 
cargo  aboard  we  had  to  bond  her.  These  bonds  were  given 
by  the  master  in  the  name  of  his  owners  and  stipulated  that 
in  consideration  of  our  not  burning  his  vessel,  they  would  be 
paid  six  months  after  the  ratification  of  a  treaty  of  peace 
between  the  United  States  and  the  Confederate  States 
Governments. 

On  June  8,  at  daylight,  we  found  ourselves  off  the  en- 
trance to  the  harbor  of  Rio  de  Janeiro  and  in  plain  sight  of 
the  famous  landmark  called  the  Sugar  Loaf.    We  also  saw 


Capture  Clipper  Ship  135 

a  splendid  big  clipper  ship  making  her  way  toward  the  port. 
Putting  on  a  full  head  of  steam  and  setting  all  sail  that 
would  draw,  we  started  in  chase  of  her.  The  stranger  evi- 
dently had  no  doubt  as  to  our  character  for  she  immedi- 
ately set  all  of  her  kites  and  studding  sails  and  made  all 
possible  haste  for  her  haven  of  refuge,  which  lay  within  the 
charmed  marine  league  from  the  shore.  Some  thought  that 
she  had  made  it,  but  Mr.  Ingraham,  our  youthful  navigator, 
announced  that  in  his  opinion  she  was  a  few  inches  outside 
of  it.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  so  we  cast  loose  our  guns 
and  after  a  few  shots  brought  her  to.  The  prize  proved  to 
be  the  clipper  ship  George  Griswold  of  New  York,  manned 
by  a  negro  crew  with  the  exception  of  her  captain  and  mates. 
There  was  great  rejoicing  on  the  Georgia  over  this  capture, 
as  the  Griswold  was  the  ship  which  had  carried  a  cargo  of 
flour  and  wheat,  a  gift  from  the  people  of  the  United  States, 
to  the  starving  factory  operatives  of  Lancashire,  whose 
means  of  earning  a  livelihood  had  been  interfered  with  by 
our  war.  Some  of  the  bread  made  from  this  cargo  had  been 
distributed  at  Birkenhead,  opposite  Liverpool,  by  a  dis- 
tinguished committee  at  the  head  of  which  was  the  cele- 
brated preacher  Henry  Ward  Beecher,  who  from  a  stand, 
on  which  had  been  placed  a  model  of  the  Alabama,  made  a 
speech  strongly  denouncing  the  South  in  general,  and  the 
Alabama  in  particular.  At  the  conclusion  of  his  oration 
the  loaves  of  bread  were  tossed  to  the  crowd,  who,  instead 
of  eating  it,  used  it  to  pelt  the  unoffending  effigy  of  the 
Alabama.  It  did  not  look  as  though  they  were  so  very 
hungry;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  gift  of  bread- 
stuff changed  the  sympathies  of  the  working  classes  of 
England  and  converted  them  into  ardent  adherents  to  the 
cause  of  the  North. 

The  captain  of  the  Griswold  had  no  trouble  in  proving 
that  she  carried  a  neutral  cargo,  so  we  had  reluctantly  to 
bond  her  for  her  own  value  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars 
and  let  her  go.   In  the  mean  while,  the  booming  of  our  guns 


136   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

had  evidently  been  heard  in  Rio,  as  Brazilian  men-of-war 
and  battleships  of  other  nationalities  began  to  send  great 
columns  of  black  smoke  out  of  their  funnels  in  their  haste 
to  get  up  steam.  We  thought  it  advisable  to  leave  the  local- 
ity, and  drew  out  to  sea.  Soon  we  saw  the  warships  coming 
after  us  and  they  followed  us  all  day;  shortly  after  dark, 
however,  we  put  out  our  lights,  —  "dowsed  our  glims,"  as 
the  sailors  say,  —  and  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the 
pursuers  "pass  in  the  night." 

On  June  13,  after  a  long  chase,  we  captured  a  very  fast 
clipper  bark  called  the  Good  Hope  of  Boston,  bound  for 
Cape  Town,  whose  crew  asserted  that  they  had  escaped 
from  the  Alabama  the  day  before  and  insisted  that  if  the 
wind  had  held  we  could  not  have  caught  them.  The  Good 
Hope's  cargo  was  composed  of  "Yankee  notions"  as  her 
mate  called  it,  consisting  of  every  imaginable  thing  from  a 
portable  country  villa  to  a  cough  lozenge,  and  including 
carriages,  pianos,  parlor  organs,  sewing  machines,  furni- 
ture, dry  goods,  etc.  On  boarding  her  we  were  informed  that 
her  captain  —  Gordon  by  name  —  had  died  on  the  voyage 
and  that  his  son,  a  youth  of  eighteen,  who  was  a  member  of 
the  crew,  had  objected  so  strenuously  to  his  father  being 
buried  at  sea  that  in  deference  to  his  wishes  the  carpenter 
had  made  a  rough,  oblong  box  and  partly  filled  it  with  brine 
from  the  beef  casks,  and  the  ship's  steward  had  slashed  the 
body  in  every  conceivable  way  with  a  carving-knife  and 
into  these  gaping  wounds  had  stuck  slices  of  ship's  pickles, 
the  better  to  preserve  it.  The  body  had  then  been  put  into 
the  briny,  improvised  coffin  and  the  cover  tightly  nailed 
down. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  when  we  made  the  capture 
and  Lieutenant  Evans  went  on  board  as  prize  master.  We 
had  expected  to  lay  by  the  Good  Hope  all  night  with  the 
object  of  taking  provisions  out  of  her  in  the  morning,  but 
Lieutenant  Smith,  who  had  the  mid-watch  on  the  Georgia, 
allowed  the  prize  to  drift  out  of  sight  and  when  daylight 


Funeral  at  Sea  137 

came  she  was  not  to  be  seen.  Naturally  we  were  very 
anxious,  as  Mr.  Evans  had  only  five  of  our  men  with  him 
and  the  Good  Hope's  crew  numbered  over  twenty.  Shortly 
after  sunrise  we  were  greatly  relieved  again  to  catch  sight 
of  her  and  soon  we  were  near  enough  to  commence  trans- 
ferring her  provisions  to  our  own  ship.  When  we  had  got  all 
we  wanted,  Captain  Maury  ordered  the  coffin  containing 
the  dead  captain  to  be  brought  aboard  the  Georgia.  This 
was  no  easy  thing  to  do  in  a  small  boat  with  the  sea  running 
quite  high,  but  the  feat  was  accomplished  and  it  was  safely 
hoisted  out  of  the  boat  by  means  of  a  "whip"  sent  down 
from  our  main  yard,  and  reverently  placed  on  two  carpen- 
ter's "horses"  which  awaited  it  just  in  front  of  the  entrance 
to  the  cabin,  where  it  was  covered  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes, 
the  flag  the  dead  man  had  sailed  under,  and  which  we  were 
told  he  loved  so  well  in  life.  Several  of  our  heaviest  projec- 
tiles were  made  fast  to  the  foot  of  the  coffin  and  when  all 
was  ready  the  ship's  bell  was  tolled  for  divine  service,  the 
prisoners  were  relieved  of  their  irons  (the  dead  captain's  son 
had  never  had  them  put  on  him),  and  all  hands  were  sum- 
moned to  bury  the  dead.  The  prisoners  and  our  crew  min- 
gled together  as  they  gathered  around  the  coffin,  at  the 
head  of  which  stood  Captain  Maury,  prayer  book  in  hand, 
with  the  son  of  the  dead  man  standing  beside  him,  while 
our  officers  reverently  took  their  places  behind.  Captain 
Maury  then  read  the  beautiful  ritual  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  for  the  burial  of  the  dead  at  sea. 

I  was  in  charge  of  the  deck  while  the  service  was  going 
on.  It  was  a  bright  sunny  Sunday  morning,  a  fresh  breeze 
blowing,  and  from  the  burning  prize,  which  had  been  set  on 
fire  when  our  last  boat  left  her,  a  great  column  of  smoke, 
hundreds  of  feet  in  height,  soared  toward  the  sky.  Just 
over  our  main  truck,  all  through  the  service,  two  white  sea 
birds  (the  superstitious  sailors  called  them  "angel"  birds) 
circled  round  and  round.  The  solemnity  of  the  occasion 
was  somewhat  marred  when  suddenly  the  lookout  on  the 


138    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

foretopmast  sang  out:  "Sail  ho!"  Not  wishing  further  to 
disturb  the  impressive  ceremony  by  asking  the  usual  ques- 
tion of  "Where  away?"  I  tiptoed  forward  and  went  aloft 
to  see  for  myself,  and  beheld  a  strange  craft  rising  on  the 
horizon  very  rapidly.  She  appeared  to  be  coming  directly 
for  us;  she  was  close-hauled  and  it  was  impossible  to  tell 
whether  or  not  a  smokestack  was  hidden  by  her  foresail, 
especially  as  United  States  crusiers  used  anthracite  coal 
and  made  little  or  no  smoke. 

As  the  stranger  approached,  I  noticed  the  unusual  white- 
ness of  her  sails  —  a  sure  sign  of  a  man-of-war;  next  I 
noticed  a  long  pennant  flying  gayly  from  the  top  of  her  main 
skysail  pole  —  another  sure  sign ;  and  as  she  came  still 
nearer  she  broke  out  the  Stars  and  Stripes!  I  waited  no 
longer,  but  scampered  down  from  aloft,  and  softly  stealing 
up  behind  Captain  Maury,  who  was  still  reading  from  his 
prayer  book,  said  in  a  whisper — "American  man-of-war 
bearing  down  on  us  rapidly! "  Never  a  muscle  did  he  move, 
nor  was  there  the  slightest  change  in  his  solemn  voice  until 
he  had  finished,  and  the  prisoners  had  lifted  the  coffin  and 
committed  the  body  to  the  care  of  the  deep  blue  sea.  Then 
he  ordered  me  to  beat  to  quarters  and  cast  loose  the  guns. 

By  the  time  this  was  done  it  was  discovered  that  the 
stranger  was  not  a  man-of-war,  but  an  innocent  merchant- 
man. What  could  be  her  object  thus  to  court  her  doom 
when  she  must  have  seen  the  burning  Good  Hope  only  a 
few  cables'  lengths  from  us?  Nearer  and  nearer  she  came, 
while  our  gunners,  lanyards  in  hand,  kept  their  pieces 
trained  on  her.  When  within  about  a  hundred  and  fifty 
yards  of  us  she  was  suddenly  thrown  up  into  the  wind,  her 
main  sail  thrown  aback,  and,  as  she  hove  to,  she  lowered  a 
whaleboat  and  her  captain  came  over  to  the  Georgia. 

We  lowered  a  Jacob's  ladder  over  the  side,  and  the  cap- 
tain of  the  bark,  jumping  out  of  his  boat,  ran  up  it  like  the 
true  sailor  he  was.  As  he  leaped  on  to  our  deck  he  exclaimed, 
"This  is  dreadful!   Can  I  be  of  any  assistance?  —  How  did 


Bark  Seaver  139 

it  happen?"  Captain  Maury  stepped  forward  and  told  him 
the  Good  Hope  had  been  burned  by  his  orders.  The  man  for 
a  moment  looked  aghast,  and  then  an  expression  of  indigna- 
tion passed  over  his  features  as  he  asked , ' '  Are  you  a  pirate  ? ' ' 
Captain  Maury  replied,  "That  is  what  your  people  call 
me."  He  then  took  the  skipper  into  his  cabin  and  heard  his 
story. 

He  had  sailed  from  the  United  States  before  the  war  had 
begun  and  had  made  the  long  voyage  around  Cape  Horn 
into  the  Pacific,  where  he  had  wandered  about  until  he  had 
got  as  far  north  as  the  Bering  Sea.  On  his  return  he  had 
stopped  at  one  of  the  South  Sea  islands,  overhauled  and 
painted  his  ship  and  whitewashed  his  sails,  and  had  then 
hoisted  a  homeward-bound  pennant.  He  was  well  on  his 
way  when,  that  morning,  he  had  seen  a  dense  column  of 
smoke  which  he  felt  sure  could  come  only  from  some  unfor- 
tunate ship  that  had  caught  fire  in  the  middle  of  the  South 
Atlantic,  and  had  at  once  left  his  course  to  go  to  her  assist- 
ance. The  first  lieutenant  of  the  Georgia  went  on  board  of 
the  bark,  whose  name  was  the  J.  W.  Seaver  and  searched 
her,  finding  many  old  newspapers,  but  none  of  later  date 
than  October,  i860.  Although  her  cargo  was  American, 
Captain  Maury  let  him  go,  saying  that  he  would  stand  a 
court  martial  before  he  would  burn  the  ship  of  a  man  who 
had  come  on  an  errand  of  mercy  to  help  fellow  seamen  in 
distress.  We  put  our  prisoners,  as  many  as  wanted  to  go, 
on  board  of  the  Seaver;  we  also  put  sufficient  of  the  provi- 
sions we  had  taken  from  the  Good  Hope  to  last  them  for  the 
voyage.  There  were  not  many  of  them,  as  most  of  the  crew 
expressed  a  desire  to  ship  with  us,  and  they  proved  to  be 
among  the  best  men  we  had. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Barren  island  of  Trinidad  —  The  natural  monument  —  Surf  five  hundred 
feet  high  —  Battle  in  the  air  between  frigate  bird  and  sailor  lad  —  Capture  of 
splendid  ship  Constitution  loaded  with  coal  and  missionaries  —  Georgia,  by 
mistake,  fires  into  the  Constitution  —  Capture  of  ship  City  of  Bath  —  Despoiled 
of  $16,000  of  our  hard-earned  wealth  by  trick  of  skipper's  wife  —  Learn  of  the 
death  of  "Stonewall  Jackson"  —  The  Cape  of  Good  Hope. 

On  June  18,  1863,  we  sighted  the  barren  island  of  Trini- 
dad situated  in  the  middle  of  the  South  Atlantic  about 
twenty  degrees  south  of  the  Equator.  The  island  is  some 
six  miles  in  circumference,  and  its  precipitous  sides  rise  out 
of  the  ocean  to  a  height  of  about  eight  hundred  feet.  A  few 
hundred  feet  from  the  island,  and  towering  several  hundred 
feet  above  it,  a  natural  monument  about  two  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  in  circumference  at  the  base,  and  perfectly  round, 
rears  its  head  skyward.  It  is  a  natural  beacon,  and  very 
useful  to  navigators  who  wish  to  sight  it  after  coming 
around  the  Horn,  to  see  if  their  chronometers  are  correct 
before  shaping  their  courses  for  Europe  or  North  America. 
One  of  the  most  magnificent  spectacles  in  the  world  can  be 
seen  here  when  a  storm  is  raging.  The  huge  waves,  with  the 
sweep  of  the  whole  Atlantic,  strike  this  rock  with  their  full 
force,  bursting  into  spray  that  ascends  four  or  five  hundred 
feet  before  it  comes  tumbling  down  like  a  waterfall. 

The  island  and  the  monument  form  a  little  cove  where  we 
anchored  in  deep  water,  although  very  near  the  land.  We 
were  so  well  hid  that,  although  we  had  a  good  view  of  the 
ocean  from  our  masthead,  passing  vessels  would  not  be 
aware  of  our  presence  until  they  saw  a  shot  skipping  across 
their  bows  and  heard  the  booming  of  a  gun.  From  daylight 
until  dark  a  cloud  of  sea-birds  could  be  seen  whirling  round 
the  top  of  the  monument,  where  we  supposed  they  had  their 
nests.  Great  numbers  of  them  also  seemed  to  resent  the 
presence  of  the  ship  and  took  no  pains  to  conceal  their  feel- 


Barren  Island  of  Trinidad  141 

ings,  flying  very  close  to  us  while  screaming  their  protest. 
One  day  a  sixteen-year-old  lad  by  the  name  of  Cox  was  on 
the  lookout  on  the  foretopgallant  yard  when  he  was  sav- 
agely attacked  by  a  huge  frigate  or  man-of-war  bird.  The 
ship  was  rolling  slightly,  and,  to  maintain  his  footing,  the 
lad  had  to  hold  on  to  a  backstay  with  one  hand  while  with 
the  other  he  defended  himself  with  his  jack-knife.  Suddenly 
the  bird  got  a  hold  with  both  beak  and  claws  on  the  boy's 
clothes  and  was  furiously  beating  him  with  his  great,  power- 
ful wings.  It  looked  for  a  moment  as  though  the  combatants 
would  both  fall  from  that  lofty  height,  when  a  fortunate 
jab  of  Cox's  knife  disabled  a  wing  and  down  came  the 
feathered  fighter  to  the  deck,  where  he  stood  off  the  whole 
crew  for  some  little  time  before  they  succeeded  in  killing 
him. 

One  day  several  of  our  officers  in  a  small  boat  rowed 
around  the  island,  but  we  could  find  only  one  spot  where  a 
landing  could  be  made  —  just  opposite  to  where  our  ship 
lay.  After  great  effort  a  few  of  us  climbed  to  the  top.  There 
were  signs  that  at  some  previous  time  men  had  lived  there, 
—  probably  some  shipwrecked  crew:  but  the  only  signs  of 
animal  life  we  saw  were  one  or  two  wild  hogs.  How  did  they 
come  there?  Years  after  our  visit  to  Trinidad  an  adventur- 
ous German  baron,  who  had  married  an  American  heiress, 
went  in  his  private  yacht  to  Trinidad,  and,  taking  posses- 
sion, declared  himself  king.  On  his  return  to  civilization  he 
advertised  for  subjects  to  people  his  new  kingdom.  This 
attracted  attention,  and  Great  Britain,  under  the  impression 
that  the  island  might  be  of  use  as  a  coaling-station,  at  once 
claimed  it.  Brazil  at  once  contested  this  claim,  and  the  dis- 
pute that  followed  was  finally  settled  in  her  favor. 

We  had  lain  at  Trinidad  for  several  days  when  one  morn- 
ing our  lookout  reported  a  sail  on  the  horizon.  Our  fires 
were  banked  and  it  took  but  little  time  to  get  up  steam, 
slip  our  cable,  and  start  in  pursuit.  We  did  not  want  to 
waste  coal,  so  we  fired  a  blank  cartridge  as  a  signal  for  the 


142   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

stranger  to  heave  to,  but  it  had  the  effect  only  of  making 
him  crack  on  more  sail.  Getting  nearer  to  him,  we  tried  the 
effect  of  a  solid  shot  across  his  bows,  with  no  better  result. 
We  then  sent  one  so  close  to  him  that  his  nerve  failed,  and 
he  hove  to.  The  stranger  proved  to  be  the  Constitution,  a 
big,  full-rigged  ship,  hailing  from  New  York  and  bound 
from  Philadelphia  to  Shanghai,  with  a  cargo  of  coal  and 
missionaries.  She  was  forty-eight  days  out  and  carried  a 
crew  of  twenty-six  men.  Half  a  dozen  of  us  were  put  on 
board  the  prize,  and,  as  there  were  several  other  sail  in 
sight,  the  Georgia  went  off  in  chase,  leaving  us  to  work  the 
big  Constitution  to  the  island  where  we  expected  our 
cruiser  to  rejoin  us.  The  wind  was  very  light  and  we  made 
but  slow  progress.  In  the  mean  while  the  Georgia  had  dis- 
appeared below  the  horizon  and  we  began  to  feel  lonesome. 
For  safety's  sake  we  placed  one  half  of  the  crew  in  irons  and 
put  them  down  below;  the  other  half  we  kept  on  deck,  mak- 
ing them  work  the  ship  for  us  until  night  came  and  then 
confined  them  all  on  the  lower  deck. 

The  Georgia  had  not  returned  by  dark,  and  neither  had 
we  succeeded  in  making  the  island,  so  we  stood  "off  and 
on"  all  through  the  night.  The  next  morning  was  fair  and 
clear,  but  still  there  was  no  sign  of  our  ship. 

The  only  restriction  put  upon  the  missionaries  and  pas- 
sengers was  that  they  were  not  allowed  to  communicate 
with  the  crew  or  go  forward  of  the  mainmast.  The  captain 
was  confined  in  his  cabin  and  the  mates  in  their  state- 
rooms, but  not  in  irons.  Night  had  again  fallen  and  the 
time  for  the  extinguishing  of  all  lights  had  arrived,  when 
we  noticed  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of  whispering  going 
on  in  the  staterooms.  An  order  for  silence  was  given  to 
which  very  little  attention  was  paid.  A  boatswain's  mate 
came  aft  and  reported  that  the  prisoners  forward  seemed 
to  be  very  uneasy  and  none  of  them  were  asleep.  They 
were  cautioned  that  if  they  did  not  keep  quiet  the  hatches 
would  be  covered  (which  would  have  made  it  very  uncom- 


Georgia  fires  into  Constitution  143 

fortable  for  them) ,  and  by  way  of  extra  precaution  an  armed 
sentry  stood  at  the  hatchway  with  orders  to  shoot  any 
man  who  showed  his  head  above  the  combings. 

The  night  was  very  dark,  and  the  rising  sea  caused  the 
ship  to  roll  more  than  ever.  Toward  midnight  a  large  vase 
became  loosened  from  its  fastenings  and  fell  to  the  deck 
with  a  crash ;  then  pandemonium  broke  loose.  The  women, 
screaming  that  the  pirates  were  going  to  murder  them, 
rushed  out  of  their  rooms  in  their  night-clothes  and  pros- 
trated themselves  on  the  deck,  begging  for  mercy.  Just  then 
—  to  add  to  the  terrors  of  the  situation  —  the  cries  of  the 
women  were  drowned  by  the  boom  of  a  cannon  and  the 
shrieking  of  a  rifle-shell  as  it  passed  over  us.  I  rushed  on 
deck  and  through  the  speaking-trumpet  shouted  to  our 
unseen  foe:  "Ship  ahoy!  Don't  fire,  we  surrender!"  —  A 
hail  came  out  of  the  darkness,  asking  what  ship  we  were. 
I  was  going  to  answer  that  it  was  the  United  States  ship 
Constitution,  a  prize  to  the  Georgia,  but  as  the  words 
"United  States"  came  out  of  my  mouth  there  was  some 
more  banging  of  the  great  guns.  Things  were  too  serious  for 
further  conversation,  so  hastily  ordering  a  boat  lowered  I 
rowed  over  to  the  strange  craft  and  found  her  to  be  the 
Georgia! 

It  seemed  that  after  leaving  us  she  chased  first  one  vessel 
and  then  another  until  she  had  got  a  long  way  from  us; 
then,  as  frequently  happened,  the  wooden  cogs  of  her  engine 
had  broken  and  injured  several  people,  and  it  had  taken 
some  time  to  make  repairs.  As  soon  as  possible  she  had 
returned  in  search  of  us  and  was  nearing  the  anchorage  in 
the  darkness  when  the  officer  of  the  deck  thought  he  heard 
cheers  which  sounded  as  if  they  were  being  given  by  a  man- 
of-war's  crew  about  to  go  into  action.  He  also  said  that 
when  he  asked  what  ship  it  was,  he  was  sure  the  answer 
he  heard  was:  "The  United  States  sloop-of-war  Niagara." 
There  was  so  much  talk  about  the  Niagara  on  board  of  the 
Georgia  that  she  evidently  had  taken  possession  of  his 


144        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

imagination.  I  have  often  wondered  if  those  poor  women 
on  the  Constitution  ever  realized  the  fact  that  they  had 
given  us  a  greater  scare  than  we  had  them. 

Several  days  were  spent  in  coaling  the  Georgia  from  the 
Constitution, — a  weary  job,  as  our  boats  were  small;  then 
the  passengers  and  crew  of  the  prize  were  transferred  to  the 
Georgia,  and  our  officers  had  to  give  up  their  staterooms 
to  the  ladies.  They  themselves  slept  in  cots  and  hammocks 
crowded  together  and  swung  in  the  space  between  the 
rooms.  We  treated  the  women  with  the  most  respectful 
consideration,  but  nothing  we  could  say  or  do  seemed  to 
allay  their  apprehensions.  They  were  so  very  miserable 
that  we  felt  sorry  for  them  and  prayed  for  a  prize  on  board 
of  which  we  could  put  them. 

On  June  27  we  chased  and  boarded  a  neutral  ship  which 
gave  us  the  sad  news  of  the  death  of  "Stonewall"  Jack- 
son, and  in  that  lonely  part  of  the  ocean  we  paid  his 
memory  a  last  tribute  of  respect  by  lowering  our  flag  to 
half  mast.  After  a  few  more  days  of  great  discomfort  we 
captured  the  American  ship  City  of  Bath,  and  hastily 
made  preparations  to  transfer  our  unhappy  guests  to  her. 
We  sent  boatload  after  boatload  of  provisions,  which  we 
had  taken  out  of  the  Constitution,  to  her,  and  exacted  from 
her  captain  a  promise  that  he  would  take  our  unwilling 
and  unwelcome  guests  to  an  American  port. 

When  the  time  came  to  transfer  the  women  to  the  City 
of  Bath  the  sea  was  so  high  that  it  would  have  been  danger- 
ous for  them  to  have  attempted  to  climb  down  the  ladder 
to  get  into  the  boats.  Both  ships  were  hove  to  out  on  the 
open  sea  and  were  rolling  heavily,  so  we  rigged  a  "whip" 
on  the  main  yardarm  and,  placing  the  poor,  frightened 
creatures  in  a  boatswain's  chair,  first  hoisted  them  up  and 
over  the  rail  and  then  lowered  them  into  the  waiting  boat. 

We  afterwards  learned  that  the  captain  of  the  City  of 
Bath  had  not  kept  the  promise  which  had  saved  his  ship 
from  destruction,  but  had  taken  the  unfortunate  passen- 


Trick  of  Skipper's  Wife  145 

gers  and  such  of  the  crew  who  had  not  enlisted  on  the 
Georgia  to  Pernambuco,  the  nearest  port,  and  left  them 
stranded  there  while  he  went  on  to  Boston  with  the  pro- 
visions. The  wife  of  the  captain  of  the  Constitution  could 
not  have  suffered  from  want,  as  a  few  months  afterwards 
we  saw  in  a  newspaper  an  interview  in  which  she  gave  a 
very  uncomplimentary  account  of  her  experiences  with  the 
pirates,  but  consoled  herself  by  saying  that  she  had  saved 
from  their  clutches  sixteen  thousand  dollars  in  gold  of  the 
ship's  money  by  sewing  the  coins  into  her  petticoats  and 
safely  left  the  corsair  with  her  treasure.  When  we  read  this 
we  felt  that  we  had  been  robbed !  Before  leaving  Trinidad 
we  slipped  the  Constitution's  cable,  set  her  on  fire,  and 
turned  her  adrift;  we  then  made  a  target  of  her  and  exer- 
cised our  men  at  the  guns  —  and  mighty  poor  range-finders 
and  gun-pointers  they  proved  themselves  to  be. 

On  July  9  we  overhauled  a  magnificent  ship  with  tower- 
ing masts  and  auxiliary  steam  power  —  the  Kent  from 
London  bound  to  Australia.  After  perfunctorily  looking 
at  the  ship's  papers  the  captain  offered  me  a  glass  of  sherry, 
and  when  I  went  on  the  deck  the  passengers  crowded  around 
me,  eagerly  asking  if  my  ship  was  the  famous  Alabama.  Of 
course  I  told  them  yes,  and  answered  a  thousand  other 
questions.  One  of  the  passengers  made  particular  inquir- 
ies about  my  age,  and  when  I  was  about  to  get  into  our 
boat  he  presented  me  with  a  brown  paper  bag  full  of  most 
delicious  cakes,  a  luxury  I  had  not  tasted  for  many  a  long 
day.  I  met  this  gentleman  again  twenty-odd  years  after  the 
cake  incident. 

I  lived  the  simple  life  on  board  the  Georgia  at  this  time 
owing  to  the  fact  that  we  had  not  entered  a  port  where 
anything  could  be  bought  for  so  long  a  time.  I  only  had 
my  ship's  ration  of  salt  horse  and  hard  tack  to  eat,  but  it 
must  have  been  a  healthful  regimen  as  I  had  grown  won- 
derfully in  height  and  strength  — ■  and  my  sobriquet  of 
"Little  Morgan"  had  become  a  misnomer. 


146   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

On  the  15th  of  August  we  sighted  Table  Mountain  at  the 
entrance  of  Table  Bay.  Behind  the  mountain  is  the  city 
of  Cape  Town,  the  capital  of  Cape  Colony.  We  chased  ves- 
sels right  under  the  shadow  of  lofty  Table  Mountain  with 
its  flat  top,  and  still  kept  well  outside  of  the  sacred  marine 
league.  Over  the  mountain,  when  the  wind  is  from  a  par- 
ticular direction,  there  hangs  a  white  cloud  formed  by  mist 
ascending  which  is  called  the  "Tablecloth."  Looking  down 
on  Table  Mountain  is  the  Lion,  a  much  higher  eminence, 
the  crest  of  which  from  certain  points  at  sea  looks  like  a 
lion  couchant.  The  whole  coast  scenery  is  very  grand  as 
viewed  from  the  ocean. 

The  next  morning  we  found  ourselves  very  close  to  that 
awesome  and  forbidding-looking  promontory  called  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope,  —  why  so  called  is  as  mysterious  as 
the  ugly,  ragged,  and  jutting  rock  itself  looks  to  be.  No 
wonder  that  the  ancient  Portuguese  mariners  believed  that 
the  demons  who  dwelt  there  dragged  their  ships  back  in  the 
night  and  so  prevented  them  from  doubling  the  ugly  head- 
land. As  we  passed  it  under  steam  the  sea  was  angrily  lash- 
ing its  base  and  the  black  rock  was  ugly  enough  to  fill  any 
one  with  dread  even  though  he  had  never  heard  any  of  the 
blood-curdling  legends  connected  with  it. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

Simon's  Town  —  The  Alabama  had  just  sailed  from  the  port  —  Two  of  the 
Georgia's  engineers,  the  boatswain,  gunner,  and  several  seamen  get  "cold 
feet"  and  leave  us  —  Our  first  lieutenant,  Mr.  Chapman,  ordered  to  Europe  — 
Visit  the  city  of  Cape  Town  —  Skippers  of  burned  ships  not  friendly  and  dis- 
posed to  start  a  rough-house  —  H.M.  troopship  Himalaya  —  " Dixie"  —  Ex- 
citing experience  with  Malay  fishermen  —  Albatross  and  Cape  pigeons  —  Meet 
the  tea  fleet  —  Also  the  U.S.S.  Vanderbilt  —  Myriads  of  fish  follow  the 
Georgia  making  the  ocean  at  night  appear  to  be  in  flames. 

Passing  into  False  Bay,  which  lies  behind  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  on  August  16  we  dropped  our  anchor  in  front 
of  Simon's  Town,  situated  on  Simon's  Bay,  a  small  inden- 
tation of  the  land  on  the  great  False  Bay.  We  had  no 
sooner  let  go  our  anchor  than  a  British  official  boarded  us 
and  ordered  us  to  put  to  sea  at  the  expiration  of  twenty- 
four  hours.  But  we  knew  many  a  trick  to  get  around  inter- 
national law,  and  showed  him  that  our  engine  was  broken 
down,  omitting  to  add  that  the  disaster  had  occurred  just 
before  we  came  to  anchor.  It  was  a  habit  of  that  engine  to 
break  down  just  as  we  entered  port  if  we  wanted  to  remain 
over  the  legal  twenty-four  hours.  Besides,  we  wanted  to 
caulk  our  decks  which  leaked  badly,  as  the  oakum,  in  the 
bad  weather  to  which  we  had  been  subjected,  had  worked 
loose;  besides  we  had  been  constantly  at  sea  for  four 
months  in  tropical  waters  and  the  iron  bottom  of  the 
Georgia  was  covered  with  a  growth  of  sea-grass  from  eight 
to  twelve  inches  long  which  impeded  her  speed  more  than 
one  half.  The  British  authorities  ordered  their  own  offi- 
cials to  hold  a  survey  on  her  and  report  on  the  absolutely 
necessary  repairs. 

The  first  news  of  interest  to  us  was  that  the  Alabama  had 
sailed  from  Simon's  Town  a  few  hours  before  our  arrival. 
It  seemed  that  she  had  got  into  hot  water  with  the  authori- 
ties by  capturing  the  bark  Conrad  too  close  to  the  line  of 
the  ubiquitous  marine  league,  had  changed  her  name  to 


148   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Tuscaloosa,  and  converted  her  into  a  Confederate  cruiser. 
This  news  that  the  Alabama  had  got  herself  disliked  by 
the  Colonial  Government  brought  on  an  attack  of  "cold 
feet"  which  so  seriously  affected  two  of  our  engineers,  the 
boatswain,  and  the  gunner,  all  Englishmen  whom  we  had 
brought  from  London  with  us,  that  they  pleaded  with  the 
captain  for  their  discharges.  This  he  granted,  although 
the  loss  of  the  engineers  was  a  serious  matter.  Several  of 
the  British  sailors  who  had  joined  us  at  Ushant  Island, 
sailor-like,  discharged  themselves  and  left  behind  the  pay 
due  them.  With  three  or  four  exceptions  our  ship's  com- 
pany was  now  composed  entirely  of  Americans.  But  a 
much  greater  loss  to  us  than  these  men  was  the  detach- 
ment of  our  first  lieutenant,  Mr.  Chapman.  He  had  be- 
come dissatisfied  with  his  position  of  executive  officer  of  a 
little  brig,  knowing  as  he  did  that  many  men  far  beneath 
him  in  rank  were  in  command  of  gunboats  in  the  Confed- 
eracy and  that  others  were  aspiring  to  command  the  cruisers 
which  were  being  fitted  out  in  England  and  in  France.  Cap- 
tain Maury  sympathized  with  his  ambition  and  allowed 
him  to  return  to  England  —  and  a  bad  day  it  was,  too,  for 
the  Georgia  when  he  left,  for  he  was  a  man  of  iron  nerve, 
a  strict  disciplinarian  with  a  kind  heart,  and  absolutely 
just. 

Having  been  cooped  up  in  very  restricted  quarters  for 
more  than  four  months,  I  longed  once  more  to  throw  my 
leg  over  a  horse  and  get  a  little  congenial  exercise.  Having 
obtained  leave,  I  mounted  a  livery-stable  steed  and  started 
for  a  twenty-mile  ride  to  Cape  Town.  The  journey  across 
country  was  a  very  uninteresting  one.  I  only  met  one 
Dutch  boy,  who  either  could  not  or  would  not  talk  Eng- 
lish, and  a  Kaffir  negro  with  whom  I  did  not  care  to  fra- 
ternize on  account  of  his  color.  But  I  did  see  what  interested 
me  greatly  —  geraniums  in  profusion  growing  wild  and 
called  weeds,  and  "everlasting"  flowers,  which  when 
plucked  may  be  laid  away  in  a  drawer  for  months  and  when 


Unfriendly  Skippers  149 

taken  out  and  placed  in  water  will  regain  their  freshness  in 
a  very  little  while. 

At  the  hotel  where  I  stopped  in  Cape  Town  I  found  that 
eight  or  ten  captains  and  mates  of  ships  recently  destroyed 
by  the  Alabama  were  guests.  I  was  in  uniform,  and  being 
in  neutral  territory  I  had  no  idea  that  they  would  attempt 
to  molest  me.  But  I  was  mistaken.  I  passed  them  in  the 
lobby  and  on  the  piazzas  without  their  taking  any  notice 
of  me,  but  when  I  entered  the  dining-room  where  they  were 
already  seated,  and  where  there  were  many  other  people, 
they  arose  en  masse  and  swore  worse  than  did  the  "army 
in  Flanders,"  damning  pirates  in  general  and  myself  in 
particular.  They  were  advancing  on  me  in  a  most  threat- 
ening manner  when  the  proprietor  of  the  place  rushed  into 
the  room  and  commanded  the  peace.  He  begged  me  to  go 
with  him  into  his  private  dining-room,  but  I  protested  that 
it  was  the  disturbers  of  the  peace  who  should  be  made  to 
leave.  I  was  finally  persuaded  to  accompany  my  host  and 
at  his  private  table  found  much  more  congenial  society  in 
the  company  of  his  charming  wife,  two  lovely  daughters, 
and  two  grown  sons,  especially  as  they  told  me  that  their 
sympathies  were  all  with  the  South.  They  also  gave  me  a 
glass  of  the  sweet  Constancia  wine  for  which  the  colony  is 
famous.  The  only  thing  that  marred  the  pleasure  of  the 
meal  happened  at  the  end  when  my  host  unfortunately 
asked  me  what  I  would  have  done  if  the  Yankee  skippers 
had  assaulted  me.  I  naively  answered  that  I  was  perfectly 
able  to  take  care  of  myself,  as  I  had  a  Colt's  revolver 
strapped  to  me  and  very  handy.  I  shall  never  forget  the 
look  of  horror  that  passed  over  the  faces  of  those  English 
people.  I  could  not  understand  it  —  coming  as  I  did  from 
a  country  where  almost  every  man  carried  a  weapon,  and 
where  it  was  considered  the  proper  thing  to  resent  an  as- 
sault with  a  shot. 

When  I  returned  to  my  ship  I  found  the  caulkers  still 
at  work  and  the  din  they  made  interfered  with  our  com- 


150   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

fort  for  many  a  day.  I  also  found  that  Her  Majesty's  troop- 
ship Himalaya  had  come  into  port  with  a  regiment  of 
Highlanders  on  board  bound  for  India.  One  day,  while 
returning  from  shore  in  one  of  our  cutters,  I  steered  her 
very  close  to  the  troopship.  The  band  was  playing  on  the 
quarter-deck,  and  as  we  approached  the  band  struck  up 
"Dixie,"  and  I  stood  up  in  the  boat  and  took  off  my  cap. 
The  Himalaya's  crew  and  the  soldiers  raised  a  cheer  which 
was  quickly  suppressed,  and  I  afterwards  heard  that  the 
bandmaster  and  the  officers  who  had  instigated  him  to 
play  "Dixie"  had  been  reprimanded.  We  afterwards  met 
some  of  these  officers  on  shore  and  they  invited  us  to  dine 
with  them  on  their  ship.  The  dinner  was  a  very  picturesque 
affair  —  the  gay  uniforms  of  the  officers  with  their  gold 
lace  and  the  beautiful  toilets  of  their  wives  and  daughters: 
the  scene  was  not  one  to  be  easily  forgotten.  The  High- 
land pipers  playing  their  bagpipes  marched  three  times 
around  the  table  and  a  more  awful  screeching  noise  than 
they  made  it  had  never  before  been  my  misfortune  to  hear. 
A  Scotch  officer  greatly  embarrassed  me  by  asking  if  I 
did  not  think  it  delightful  music.  When  the  table  was 
cleared  of  all  the  good  things,  the  colonel  arose  and  said, 
"Gentlemen,  will  you  fill  your  glasses?"  This  having  been 
done,  he  again  arose  and  solemnly  proposed  the  toast  which 
consisted  of  only  two  words,  "The  Queen!"  The  glasses 
were  emptied,  and  the  function  was  at  an  end. 

The  weather  around  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  is  notori- 
ously treacherous.  One  afternoon  I  asked  permission  to 
go  on  shore  and  it  was  granted  me  on  my  solemn  promise 
that  I  would  be  back  in  time  to  keep  the  mid-watch.  I  had 
a  most  enjoyable  time  until  about  ten  o'clock  when  I  had 
to  leave  my  companions  so  as  to  catch  the  Georgia's  boat. 
I  was  disappointed  to  find  that  no  boat  had  come  for  me, 
and  that  it  was  blowing  "great  guns."  I  wanted  to  keep 
my  promise,  but  none  of  the  native  watermen  would  under- 
take to  put  me  aboard,  saying  that  the  sea  was  too  high. 


Exciting  Experience  151 

At  last  a  man  told  me  that  some  little  distance  up  the 
beach  there  was  a  hut  occupied  by  some  Malay  fishermen 
and  that  they  would  risk  anything  for  money.  I  went  to 
the  shanty  and  had  some  little  difficulty  in  routing  them 
out  of  their  slumbers.  After  a  great  deal  of  bargaining  five 
of  them  agreed  to  go  with  me  for  two  pounds,  which  I  truth- 
fully told  them  was  all  I  had.  At  Simon's  Town  when  the 
wind  is  from  the  southwest  the  huge  rollers  of  the  South 
Atlantic  have  a  clean  sweep  into  the  open  roadstead  which 
answers  for  a  harbor.  The  huge  Himalaya  could  be  plainly 
seen  in  the  moonlight  tugging  at  her  anchors  while  rolling 
heavily,  and  the  little  Georgia  was  wallowing  and  plunging 
bows  under  and  the  spray  in  sheets  passing  over  her.  The 
curlers  coming  high  on  the  beach  did  not  look  inviting,  but 
it  had  to  be  done.  Before  embarking  the  Malays  insisted 
that  in  the  presence  of  the  witnesses  gathered  around  the 
boat  I  should  agree  to  take  all  the  responsibility  and  steer 
the  boat.  The  boat  was  high  on  the  beach  and  was  resting 
on  wooden  rollers.  She  was  taken  to  the  water's  edge  and 
we  got  into  her  —  the  Malays  got  out  their  oars,  and  their 
numerous  friends  seized  hold  of  the  gunwales  and  dragged 
us  out  until  she  was  afloat,  and  then  they  let  us  go.  It  was 
an  awful  effort  to  get  through  the  surf,  but  the  feat  was 
finally  accomplished.  Outside  of  the  breakers  the  seas 
were  still  higher  and  we  took  a  great  deal  of  water  into  the 
boat  which  compelled  two  of  the  men  to  take  in  their  oars 
and  go  to  bailing.  The  water  gained  on  us,  and  it  began  to 
look  very  dubious  as  to  whether  we  would  reach  the  ship 
or  not.  But  by  almost  superhuman  exertions  the  Malays 
succeeded  and  only  just  in  time,  for  as  a  line  was  thrown 
from  the  Georgia  the  boat  sank  under  us.  The  smart 
Malay  at  the  bow  oar  the  moment  he  caught  the  line  had 
instantly  taken  a  turn  around  the  forward  thwart  and  made 
it  fast.  The  Georgia  quickly  sent  down  a  "whip"  from  the 
main  yard  and  we  were  safely  hoisted  on  board.  The  offi- 
cer who  would  have  had  to  walk  the  mid-watch  if  I  had 


152   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

failed  to  return  seemed  disposed  to  regard  me  somewhat  in 
the  light  of  a  hero.  The  others  said  I  was  an  idiot,  and  the 
captain  gave  me  a  good  scolding  for  what  he  termed  my 
foolhardiness.  Somehow  or  other  I  never  could  make  a  suc- 
cess of  that  hero  business.  « 

We  had  received  information  that  H.B.M.  cruiser  Nar- 
cissus was  coming  from  Table  Bay  to  investigate  our  long 
stay  in  a  British  port  and  to  see  that  we  did  not  longer  in- 
fringe upon  the  rules  set  forth  in  Her  Majesty's  neutrality 
proclamation,  so  like  the  sensible  dog  which  "got  up  and 
walked  out  when  he  saw  preparations  being  made  to  kick 
him,"  we  bade  good-bye  to  Simon's  Town.  As  we  were 
leaving  who  should  come  into  port  but  the  Narcissus,  and 
that  policeman  of  the  seas  not  only  did  not  attempt  to  ar- 
rest us,  but  dipped  her  colors  to  us  as  her  enthusiastic  crew 
manned  the  rigging  and  gave  us  three  lusty  cheers  —  need- 
less to  say  that  we  returned  the  compliment  with  interest. 

Passing  out  of  False  Bay  into  the  South  Atlantic  we 
steered  a  southeasterly  course,  followed  by  many  graceful 
albatross  and  thousands  of  Cape  pigeons,  a  pretty  little 
speckled  sea-bird  strongly  resembling  in  size  and  appear- 
ance its  domestic  namesake. 

The  sailors  threw  out  a  line  with  a  hook  baited  with  a 
small  piece  of  fat  pork  which  was  almost  instantly  gob- 
bled by  a  huge  albatross  measuring  almost  twelve  feet  from 
tip  to  tip.  The  poor  bird  was  hauled  aboard,  the  hook  un- 
fastened from  its  bill,  and  it  was  turned  loose  on  the  deck 
when  it  became  fearfully  seasick,  causing  much  amuse- 
ment for  the  men.  It  is  a  singular  fact  that  all  sea-birds, 
despite  the  fact  that  they  will  alight  on  the  water  and  ride 
over  the  highest  waves  without  discomfort,  become  ill  the 
moment  they  touch  a  ship's  deck.  Besides  his  size,  our  al- 
batross was  remarkable  for  a  brass  bracelet  he  wore  on 
one  of  his  legs  on  which  was  engraved,  "  Condor  1854."  His 
appetite  had  evidently  got  him  into  trouble  on  a  previous 
occasion. 


Meet  the  Tea  Fleet  153 

The  morning  after  we  lost  sight  of  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  we  saw  on  the  horizon  a  large  number  of  sail.  We 
knew  at  once  that  they  were  the  quarry  we  were  looking 
for.  The  wind  was  very  light  and  fortunately  they  were 
coming  toward  us,  for  the  Georgia's  chasing  days  were  over. 
The  mass  of  long  sea-grass  on  her  hull  had  reduced  her 
boasted  speed  of  nine  knots  an  hour  under  steam  to  less 
than  five. 

As  the  fleet  of  Indiamen  loaded  with  silks  and  tea  from 
the  Orient  approached  us,  we  picked  out  those  ships  which 
we  suspected  might  be  American  and  ran  up  alongside  of 
them,  sending  an  officer  on  board  to  examine  their  papers 
without  putting  them  to  the  inconvenience  of  having  to 
heave  to,  as  we  knew  how  anxious  they  all  were  to  get  to 
the  northward  of  the  Cape  before  bad  weather  came  on 
again.  We  went  from  ship  to  ship,  but  had  no  luck,  as  all 
we  boarded  were  either  neutral  vessels  or  else  American 
ships  which  had  changed  their  nationality  and  had  neu- 
tral cargoes  aboard.  We  had  changed  our  course  and 
accompanied  them  until  the  evening  of  the  next  day  when 
we  found  ourselves  under  the  shadow  of  Table  Mountain. 
The  sun  was  setting  when  suddenly  we  saw  a  great  paddle- 
wheel  steamer,  her  double  walking-beam  engines  making 
her  nationality  unmistakable,  She  was  headed  for  Table 
Bay,  her  course  taking  her  across  our  bow  and  she  soon 
was  only  about  five  miles  away. 

Captain  Maury  ordered  all  hands  to  assemble  at  the 
mast  and  said  to  them,  "Men,  that  steamer  is  the  Vander- 
bilt;  she  can  outrun  us  and  she  can  whip  us  after  she 
catches  us.  I  am  going  to  lay  you  alongside  of  her  and  you 
had  far  better  follow  me  aboard  her  and  die  like  men  fight- 
ing for  your  lives  than  to  tamely  allow  yourselves  to  be 
hung  from  her  yardarms.  Go  to  quarters!" 

We  held  our  course  and  the  Vanderbilt  kept  on  without 
taking  any  notice  of  us  and  entered  Table  Bay  into  which 
she  had  hardly  poked  her   nose  before  we  captured  the 


154   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

American  ship  John  Watt  in  plain  view  of  the  lights  of  the 
city  of  Cape  Town  which  by  this  time  were  beginning  to 
twinkle  in  the  distance.  I  fear  that  we  were  perilously  near 
that  sacred  limit  called  the  ''marine  league"  within  which 
captures  were  unlawful,  but  we  saw  no  fence  demarking 
private  property  and  gave  ourselves  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt. 

The  Vanderbilt  carried  twelve  eleven-inch  guns  and  she 
had  come  thousands  of  miles  to  capture  the  Alabama.  She 
lay  for  some  time  at  Cape  Town  and  if  her  captain  did  not 
know  where  the  Alabama  was  at  that  time,  he  must  have 
been  the  only  man  in  Cape  Colony  who  was  unaware  of 
the  fact  that  the  Confederate  cruiser  was  only  a  few  miles 
away  to  the  southward. 

We  had  not  proceeded  very  far  when  we  discovered  that 
innumerable  fish,  albecore  and  bonito,  seemed  to  be  fol- 
lowing the  ship,  many  of  them  swimming  so  close  to  her 
sides  that  they  almost  touched  her.  As  we  were  under  sail 
alone  and  going  very  slowly,  there  was  nothing  to  disturb 
them  except  the  occasional  throwing  of  a  grange  (a  three- 
pronged  harpoon)  by  the  men.  The  fish  were  so  close  to- 
gether that  it  was  impossible  to  miss  and  we  had  quanti- 
ties of  fresh  fish  for  all  hands  for  ten  or  twelve  days  before 
they  left  us.  The  nights  were  dark  and  we  witnessed  a  sin- 
gular phenomenon  caused  by  these  myriads  of  fish  rushing 
through  the  phosphorescent  water,  causing  the  ocean  to  be 
streaked,  as  though  by  flames,  from  horizon  to  horizon. 
In  the  daytime  great  schools  of  small  fish  could  be  seen  flap- 
ping on  the  surface  in  mortal  fright  and  giving  one  the  idea 
of  a  huge  silver  salver  as  their  shiny  sides  contrasted  with 
the  ocean's  blue  and  shimmered  in  the  sunlight.  They  had 
cause  to  be  alarmed,  as  from  under  them  hundreds  of  albe- 
core would  pop  up,  leaping  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in  the  air, 
each  one  of  them  having  a  victim  in  his  mouth.  Flying 
fish  in  efforts  to  escape  were  sailing  in  every  direction 
through  the  air. 


In  the  Doldrums  155 

It  was  useless  for  us  to  chase  any  vessels  so  long  as  we 
were  in  the  southeast  trades,  as  they  would  run  away  from 
us  in  the  fresh  breeze,  but  when  we  neared  the  Equator  and 
got  into  the  doldrums,  that  region  of  calms  and  squalls, 
waterspouts,  and  rains  which  fell  in  sheets  instead  of  drops, 
we  had  no  trouble  in  running  up  to  any  sailing  vessel  that 
we  selected  to  examine.  One  moment  a  squall  would  strike 
them  and  they  would  be  rushing  through  the  water  like 
ocean  greyhounds  and  the  next  minute  they  would  be  be- 
calmed with  their  sails  idly  flapping  against  their  masts. 
One  minute  we  would  be  scorched  by  the  tropical  sun  and 
the  next  we  would  be  drenched  by  a  cloudburst.  Our  rubber 
raincoats  were  useless,  as  nothing  but  the  yellow  oilskins 
of  the  sailors  could  shed  that  torrent  of  water. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

The  prize  Bold  Hunter,  abandoned  and  on  fire,  runs  down  and  seriously 
damages  the  Georgia  —  Mirage  at  night  —  Peak  of  Teneriffe  —  Santa  Cruz  — 
Battle  with  a  Frenchman  —  Rescue  French  brig  Diligente  —  Captain  Maury 
ill  —  Sailors  get  at  the  spirit-room  —  Mutiny. 

On  October  9,  1863,  in  a  light  breeze  and  after  a  lively 
chase  we  brought  to,  with  our  guns,  the  splendid  American 
full-rigged  ship  Bold  Hunter,  of  Boston,  from  Dundee, 
bound  to  Calcutta  with  a  heavy  cargo  of  coal.  We  hove  to 
to  leeward  of  her  and  brought  her  captain  and  crew  over  to 
our  ship,  where  as  usual  the  crew  were  placed  in  irons  and 
below  decks.  Being  short  of  coal  and  provisions  we  pro- 
ceeded to  supply  our  wants  from  the  prize.  This  was  easy 
so  far  as  the  provisions  were  concerned,  but  when  it  came  to 
carrying  the  coal  from  one  ship  to  the  other  in  our  small 
boats,  in  something  of  a  seaway,  that  was  another  matter. 
After  half  a  dozen  trips  one  of  our  boats  came  very  near 
being  swamped,  and  the  wind  and  sea  rapidly  rising,  we 
gave  it  up  as  a  bad  job.  This  was  about  two  bells  (1  p.m.) 
in  the  afternoon  watch.  We  signaled  our  prize  master  to 
set  fire  to  the  Bold  Hunter  and  also  to  come  aboard  the 
Georgia  at  once,  which  he  did. 

We  had  hardly  finished  hoisting  our  boats  to  the  davits 
when  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  burst  from  the  hatches  of  the 
Bold  Hunter  coming  from  the  thousands  of  tons  of  burning 
coal  in  her  hold.  The  wind  had  by  this  time  increased  to  a 
gale  and  the  sea  was  running  very  high.  As  before  men- 
tioned, the  wind  was  very  light  when  we  captured  the  ship 
and  she  had  hove  to  with  all  sail  set,  even  to  her  royals. 
The  flames  leaped  from  her  deck  to  her  tarry  rigging  and 
raced  up  the  shrouds  and  backstays  and  burned  away  her 
braces  —  her  yards  swung  around,  her  sails  filled,  and  the 
floating  inferno,  like  a  mad  bull,  bore  down  on  us  at  full 


Bold  Hunter  damages  the  Georgia       157 

speed,  rushing  through  the  water  as  though  she  was  bent 
on  having  her  revenge.  To  avoid  a  collision,  the  order  was 
given  on  the  Georgia  to  go  ahead  at  full  speed.  The  gong 
in  the  engine  room  sounded,  the  engine  turned  the  screw, 
and  the  screw  began  to  churn  the  water  under  our  stern 
The  engine  made  two  or  three  revolutions  —  then  there  was 
a  crash  —  followed  by  yells  as  the  engineers  and  oilers 
rushed  on  to  the  deck  accompanied  by  a  shower  of  lignum- 
vita^  cogs  and  broken  glass  from  the  engine-room  windows. 
The  order  to  make  sail  was  instantly  given,  but  before  the 
gaskets  which  confined  the  furled  sails  to  the  yardarms  could 
be  cast  off,  the  burning  ship  was  upon  us.  She  had  come  for 
us  with  such  directness  that  one  could  easily  have  imagined 
that  she  was  being  steered  by  some  demon  who  had  come 
out  of  the  inferno  which  was  raging  in  her  hold.  We  stood 
with  bated  breath  awaiting  the  catastrophe  which  seemingly 
was  about  to  overtake  us.  The  Bold  Hunter  was  rated  at 
over  three  thousand  tons  and  had  inside  her  a  burning  cargo 
of  coal  of  even  greater  weight  —  the  Georgia  was  scarcely 
one  sixth  her  size.  Onward  rushed  the  blazing  ship,  pre- 
senting an  awesome  spectacle  with  the  flames  leaping  about 
her  sails  and  rigging  while  a  huge  mass  of  black  smoke  rolled 
out  of  her  hatches.  High  above  our  heads  her  long,  flying 
jibboom  passed  over  our  poop  deck  as  she  rose  on  a  great 
wave  and  came  down  on  our  port  quarter,  her  cutwater  cleav- 
ing through  the  Georgia's  fragile  plates  as  cleanly  as  though 
they  had  been  made  out  of  cheese.  The  force  of  the  impact 
pushed  the  Georgia  ahead  and  for  a  moment  we  congratu- 
lated ourselves  that  we  had  escaped  from  the  fiery  demon 
whose  breath  was  scorching  us.  But  the  Bold  Hunter  was 
not  yet  satisfied  with  the  injuries  she  had  inflicted.  Recover- 
ing from  the  recoil,  she  again  gathered  way  and  struck  us 
near  the  place  she  had  previously  damaged,  but  fortunately 
this  was  a  glancing  blow  which  had  the  effect  only  of  wrench- 
ing off  our  port  quarter  davits  and  reducing  the  boat  which 
was  slung  to  them  to  kindling  wood.  Not  yet  satisfied,  the 


158   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

apparently  infuriated  inanimate  object  made  a  third  at- 
tempt to  destroy  the  Georgia,  this  time,  fortunately,  missing 
her  mark  and  passing  a  few  yards  to  leeward  of  us.  Her  sails 
having  burned,  she  soon  lost  headway  and  helplessly  lay 
wallowing  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  while  the  fire  ate  through 
her  sides,  and  her  tall  masts,  one  after  the  other,  fell  with 
a  great  splash  into  the  sea.  Before  she  went  down  sur- 
rounded by  a  cloud  of  steam  we  had  a  good  view  through 
the  great  holes  burned  in  her  sides  of  the  fire  raging  inside 
her.  I  imagine  it  was  a  very  realistic  imitation  of  what  hell 
looks  like  when  the  forced  drafts  are  turned  on  in  honor  of 
the  arrival  of  a  distinguished  sinner. 

The  Georgia  needed  a  port,  and  needed  one  sorely,  to 
repair  her  injuries,  as  she  was  leaking  badly  despite  the 
work  of  the  carpenter's  gang  in  stopping  up  the  hole  made 
by  the  Bold  Hunter's  stem.  We  were  making  all  possible 
speed  for  some  place  —  I  did  not  know  where  —  when  on 
the  night  of  October  13-14  we  were  the  victims  of  a  most 
singular  false  alarm.  The  night  was  starlit  and  the  sea  was 
smooth  —  the  only  air  stirring  being  that  made  by  the  slow 
progress  of  the  steamer.  I  was  keeping  the  mid-watch  on 
the  forecastle.  Four  bells  (2  a.m.)  had  just  struck,  when  the 
stillness  of  the  night  was  broken  by  a  frightened  yell  from 
the  lookout  —  ' '  Land  ho ! "  Instantly  the  officer  of  the  deck 
asked,  "Where  away?"  and  the  lookout  answered,  "Dead 
ahead,  sir!"  —  and  added  in  what  was  a  frightened  wail, 
"For  God's  sake,  stop  her,  sir!"  By  this  time  the  officer  of 
the  deck  had  seen  the  cause  of  alarm  and  had  signaled  the 
engineer  to  stop  and  then  to  go  astern  at  full  speed. 

A  sailor,  although  asleep,  instantly  knows  if  anything 
has  gone  wrong  on  his  ship.  A  sail  taken  aback  —  or  the 
engines  stopping,  —  yes,  even  the  cessation  of  the  regular 
tramp  of  the  officer  as  he  walks  his  watch,  will  awaken  Jack 
instantly.  In  this  instance  the  watch  below  were  out  of 
their  bunks  and  hammocks  in  a  jiffy  and  scampered  up  the 
hatchway  to  find  out  what  had  happened.    One  look  was 


Mirage  at  Night  159 

enough  —  there,  not  a  ship's  length  ahead,  was  land  which 
towered  up  into  the  darkness.  It  looked  as  though  it  would 
be  impossible  to  stop  our  headway  before  we  should  be 
dashed  to  pieces  on  it.  Captain  Maury  and  all  his  officers 
were  gathered  on  the  poop  deck.  It  was  the  only  time  I  ever 
saw  the  captain  show  any  excitability.  He  rather  peremptorily 
demanded  an  explanation  from  the  navigator,  who  insisted 
that  his  calculations  were  right  and  that  the  nearest  land  to 
us  was  the  Canary  Islands,  distant  more  than  one  hundred 
miles.  The  captain  pointed  to  the  land,  a  cable's  length  or 
less  away,  an  unanswerable  argument.  The  navigator  could 
only  shake  his  head  doubtfully  and  reiterate  that  despite 
all  appearances  being  against  him  he  was  sure  his  work  was 
correct.  The  captain  went  into  his  room  and  together  they 
went  over  the  calculations,  but  no  error  could  be  discovered. 
Then  the  captain  came  forward  and  looked  long  and  in- 
tently at  the  obstacle  which  barred  our  further  progress, 
apparently.  Suddenly  I  was  surprised  to  hear  him  laugh  in 
his  usual  gentle  way,  and  then  I  almost  jumped  out  of  my 
boots  as  I  heard  him  give  the  order  to  go  ahead  at  full 
speed.  As  he  passed  me  on  his  way  back  to  his  cabin  he 
simply  said,  "  Mirage!"  I  afterwards  heard  him  say  that  it 
was  the  only  time  in  his  life  that  he  had  ever  seen  a  mirage 
at  night.  Through  the  rest  of  my  watch  it  seemed  to  me 
that  the  next  revolution  of  the  engine  must  necessarily 
plunge  our  flying  jibboom  into  those  phantom  rocks.  The 
mirage  faded  away  before  daylight,  and  that  morning  at  a 
distance  of  a  hundred  and  ten  miles  we  plainly  saw  the  Peak 
of  Teneriffe  towering  above  the  clouds. 

The  morning  after  our  mirage  scare  we  dropped  our 
anchor  in  front  of  the  picturesque  little  town  of  Santa  Cruz 
which  nestles  at  the  foot  of  the  gigantic  peak.  The  little 
fort  which  guards  the  harbor  looked  comical  with  its  little 
popguns  pointing  seaward,  but  this  fort  will  always  live  in 
history,  for  it  was  a  projectile  from  one  of  its  toy  guns  which 
removed  the  great  Admiral  Lord  Nelson's  arm. 


160        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

The  vicinity  of  the  Canary  Islands  is  a  favorite  hunting- 
ground  for  American  whalers,  and  United  States  men-of-war 
were  constantly  on  guard  to  protect  them;  one  had  just  left 
Santa  Cruz  the  day  before  we  arrived.  Had  she  remained 
twenty-four  hours  longer  it  would  have  been  the  end  of  the 
Georgia's  cruise. 

We  put  our  prisoners  on  shore,  and  as  the  authorities 
were  as  anxious  to  get  rid  of  us  as  we  were  to  get  out  of  that 
neighborhood,  our  absolutely  necessary  repairs  were  hurried. 
During  our  short  stay  a  native  merchant  who  had  supplied 
us  with  some  necessities  invited  me  to  take  lunch  at  his 
pretty  villa  in  the  suburbs  and  there  I  first  saw  a  gazelle,  a 
gentle,  affectionate  little  creature  who  followed  the  mistress 
of  the  establishment  all  over  the  house  and  through  the 
gardens  —  I  also  learned  for  the  first  time  that  canary  birds 
in  the  Canary  Islands  are  green  instead  of  yellow  like  the 
birds  of  commerce  which  are  bred  in  cages. 

After  a  two  days'  stay  at  Santa  Cruz  we  got  under  way 
and  on  the  20th  of  October  we  had  a  rather  amusing  adven- 
ture with  a  bellicose  Frenchman.  The  wind  was  so  light 
that  the  sailing  ships  in  sight  had  barely  steerage  way. 
Under  steam  we  bore  down  on  a  bark  which  showed  French 
colors,  but  looked  like  an  American.  As  we  ranged  along- 
side of  him  my  captain  ordered  me  to  hail  him  in  French 
and  I  did  so  by  bawling  out  through  the  speaking  trumpet 
(called  in  these  days  a  megaphone):  "Mettez  votre  grand 
voile  au  mat!"  —  which  is  French  for  "Heave  to!"  — to 
which  the  excitable  Gaul  replied:  "  Je  suis  francais,  et  je  ne 
m'arrete  pas  pour  un  canaille  de  corsair!"  —  which  is 
French  for  "  I  am  a  Frenchman,  and  I  don't  stop  for  a  low- 
bred pirate!"  We  lowered  a  boat  and  I  was  ordered  to  go 
aboard  the  rude  fellow's  ship  and  tell  him  that  he  must  show 
his  papers.  But  when  I  got  alongside  of  him  I  found  a  nice 
reception  awaiting  me.  The  furious  Frenchman  was  stand- 
ing in  the  gangway  of  his  ship  frantically  waving  a  rusty 
old  sword,  while  two  men  stood  behind  him  armed  with 


Battle  with  a  Frenchman  161 

muskets  and  the  rest  of  his  crew  were  brandishing  hand  and 
marlinspikes,  ugly  weapons  in  the  hands  of  sailors.  Neither 
my  boat's  crew  nor  myself  were  armed,  as  we  only  intended 
to  make  a  friendly  visit,  and  I  had  no  authority  to  use  force 
in  boarding  him,  so  I  returned  to  the  Georgia  for  further 
orders.  Captain  Maury  was  provoked  at  the  fellow's  stub- 
bornness and  ordered  us  to  cast  loose  our  guns.  We  first 
fired  a  blank  cartridge  which  produced  no  effect.  We  then 
fired  a  solid  shot  across  his  bow,  with  no  better  result.  The 
Georgia  was  being  turned  around  all  this  time  so  that  the 
little  Whitworth  guns  on  the  poop  deck  (stern  chasers) 
could  be  fired,  but  the  order  was  given  to  fire  before  they 
could  clear  the  Frenchman  and  a  projectile  went  screaming 
over  his  forecastle.  I  never  before  saw  a  mainyard  swing  so 
quickly,  and  the  bark  was  hove  to  as  though  by  magic.  I  got 
into  our  boat  again,  this  time  accompanied  by  Lieutenant 
Evans  and  an  armed  crew.  As  we  passed  under  the  stern  of 
the  bark  we  saw  that  her  name  was  La  Patrie.  At  the  gang- 
way we  were  received  by  the  captain,  unarmed  this  time, 
and  I  assured  him  that  we  only  wanted  to  see  his  papers,  and 
explained  to  him  that  any  American  ship  could  have  a 
Frenchman  on  deck  to  forbid  our  coming  aboard ;  hence  the 
necessity  of  our  seeing  the  proof  of  nationality  for  ourselves, 
and  that  as  a  man-of-war  we  intended  to  exert  that  right. 
To  our  surprise  the  Frenchman  replied  that  he  refused  to 
let  us  see  his  ship's  papers  unless  we  used  force!  The  lieu- 
tenant told  me  to  ask  him  what  kind  of  force  he  wished  to 
have  used,  and  whether  the  presence  of  an  armed  boat's 
crew  was  not  sufficient,  and  getting  angry  he  told  me  to  ask 
the  Frenchman  if  he  wanted  to  be  knocked  down  as  evidence 
that  force  was  being  used.  The  captain  replied  that  he  only 
wanted  one  of  us  to  touch  his  coat-sleeve  with  a  single  fin- 
ger, and  taking  my  hand  in  one  of  his  with  the  other  he  took 
hold  of  my  first  finger  and  gently  pressing  it  against  the 
sleeve  of  a  sailor  who  was  beside  me,  showed  us  how  he 
wanted  it  done.     The  lieutenant  obliged  him.     He  then 


1 62   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

showed  the  way  into  his  cabin,  and  as  Mr.  Evans  and  I 
entered  the  room,  with  a  graceful  bow  he  said,  "Ici  nous 
sommes  des  messieurs"  ("Here  we  are  gentlemen");  and 
not  only  showed  his  papers,  which  were  absolutely  correct, 
but  also  opened  a  bottle  of  champagne  for  us.  We  thought 
that  we  had  parted  on  the  most  friendly  terms,  but  some 
days  afterwards  the  Frenchman  met  and  boarded  a  French 
steamer  and  sent  a  report  of  the  outrage  (?),  as  he  termed 
it,  to  his  Government,  which  would  have  caused  us  a  great 
deal  of  trouble  if  it  had  not  been  for  a  good  piece  of  luck 
which  befell  us  in  falling  in  with  the  French  brig  Diligente, 
which  had  been  knocked  over  by  a  squall  and  was  lying 
on  her  beam  ends,  out  of  food,  and  helpless,  while  every 
wave  washed  over  her  and  her  exhausted  crew.  Her  cargo 
had  shifted  and  her  wearied  men  had  been  unable  to  right 
her.  We  sent  a  number  of  our  crew  on  board  who  soon  re- 
placed the  cargo  in  its  proper  place  and  we  spontaneously 
burst  into  a  hearty  cheer  as  she  regained  an  upright  position. 
Her  captain  was  very  grateful,  especially  for  the  provisions 
we  gave  him,  and  he  gave  us  several  bottles  of  eau-de-vie  de 
Danzig  with  gold  dust  floating  in  it.  This  was  the  only  thing 
in  the  brig  which  was  not  saturated  with  salt  water.  The 
Diligente  hailed  from  Cherbourg,  France,  and  her  captain 
gave  us  a  letter  to  his  owners  telling  them  of  his  misfortune 
and  speaking  in  very  complimentary  terms  of  the  assist- 
ance we  had  given  him,  and  begged  us  to  mail  it  from  the 
first  port  we  entered. 

A  few  days  after  we  had  rescued  the  Frenchman  we  ex- 
perienced quite  a  little  uneasiness  on  our  own  account.  A 
smoke  was  seen  on  the  horizon  and  shortly  afterwards  a 
steamer  appeared  coming  straight  for  us.  We  soon  decided 
that  she  was  a  merchantman,  but  that  proved  nothing,  as 
the  United  States  Government  had  converted  so  many 
merchant  steamers  into  men-of-war.  Owing  to  our  foul 
bottom  the  stranger  gained  rapidly  on  us.  We  went  to  our 
guns  and  waited  to  see  what  was  going  to  happen.  On  com- 


Captain  Maury  ill  163 

ing  abeam  she  proved  to  be  the  Portuguese  steamer  Bra- 
ganza,  who  wanted  a  comparison  of  longitude,  as  something 
had  gone  wrong  with  her  chronometer.  We  were  very  glad 
that  that  was  all  she  wanted,  for  things  were  not  going  well 
on  board  of  the  Georgia. 

Captain  Maury  had  been  ill  ever  since  we  had  left  the 
Cape  of  Good  Hope.  While  there  he  had  received  letters 
from  home  telling  him  that,  owing  to  the  maneuvers  of  the 
Northern  and  Southern  armies,  his  wife  and  children  had 
become  refugees,  and  he  did  not  know  what  had  become  of 
them.  He  became  very  melancholy  and  rarely  appeared  on 
deck.  Dr.  Wheeden  spent  most  of  his  time  in  the  cabin  with 
him.  The  discipline  of  the  ship  also  missed  the  iron  hand 
of  Lieutenant  Chapman.  Lieutenant  Evans,  who  had  suc- 
ceeded Chapman  as  executive  officer,  was  a  most  charming 
and  accomplished  gentleman,  but  he  was  not  a  strict  disci- 
plinarian. Things  had  gone  from  bad  to  worse  than  bad, 
until  one  day  some  of  the  stokers  discovered  that  a  coal 
bunker  was  only  separated  from  the  spirit-room,  where  their 
grog  rations  were  stored,  by  a  thin  bulkhead;  this  they 
bored  through.  They  must  have  known  the  location  of  a 
particular  barrel  of  whiskey,  for  they  bored  through  the 
head  of  that  also,  and  inserting  a  piece  of  lead  pipe  into  the 
hole  they  got  all  the  liquor  they  (temporarily)  wanted.  This 
they  distributed  among  the  crew  and  soon  there  was  a  battle 
royal  going  on  on  the  berth  deck  which  the  master-at-arms 
was  unable  to  stop.  The  first  lieutenant  went  below  and  his 
presence  had  the  effect  of  causing  a  pause  in  the  turmoil. 
He  persuaded  the  ringleaders  to  go  on  deck  and  appear  at 
the  mainmast,  which  was  the  court-house  on  the  old-time 
men-of-war.  Several  of  the  men  were  sentenced  to  be  placed 
in  irons  and  confined  in  the  "brig"  (ship's  jail)  on  a  diet  of 
bread  and  water.  But  the  biggest  bully  in  the  ship  swore 
that  the  master-at-arms  was  not  man  enough  to  put  him 
in  irons.  The  latter  official  was  the  chief  policeman  of  the 
ship;  he  was  undoubtedly  a  scientific  boxer  and  boasted  that 


164   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

he  had  once  been  a  prize-fighter,  but  if  that  was  so  he  must 
have  had  a  yellow  streak  in  him,  for  it  was  evident  that  the 
men  had  cowed  him  and  that  he  did  not  dare  make  a  move. 
Here  was  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish!  —  the  authority  of  the 
executive  officer  defied  to  his  face.  Instantly  appreciating 
the  danger  of  such  a  state  of  affairs  on  such  a  ship  as  the 
Georgia,  I  suddenly  leaped  upon  the  man  and  bore  him  to 
the  deck,  where,  in  a  jiffy,  the  master-at-arms  placed  the 
bracelets  on  his  wrists.  The  other  mutineers,  quietly  extend- 
ing their  arms  in  sign  of  submission,  were  placed  in  irons, 
and  confined  below.  The  discipline  of  the  ship  needed  as 
much  repairing  as  the  vessel  did  herself.  It  was  time  the 
Georgia  sought  a  civilized  port  for  more  reasons  than  one. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Cherbourg  —  Letters  from  home  tell  of  the  deaths  of  my  two  brothers, 
captains  in  Stonewall  Jackson's  corps  —  French  fleet  arrives  to  keep  us  in 
order  —  Great  storm  and  loss  of  flagship's  launch  and  crew  —  Impressive  mili- 
tary pageant  at  funeral  —  Captain  Maury  relieved  from  the  command  of  the 
Georgia.  —  The  C.S.S.  Rappahannock  —  Kearsarge  and  Tuscarora  waiting  for 
us  outside. 

We  slowly  dragged  our  heavy  grass  crop  along  and 
entered  the  English  Channel  where  we  knew  Federal  cruis- 
ers were  on  the  watch,  but  we  were  fortunate  enough  not  to 
be  seen  by  them,  and  in  the  middle  of  the  night  of  October 
28-29,  1863,  we  quietly  stole  into  the  harbor  of  Cherbourg, 
France,  and  dropped  anchor. 

We  had  been  at  sea  for  eight  long  months,  and  with  the 
exception  of  our  captain,  not  an  officer  on  board  had  heard 
from  home.  The  news  of  our  arrival  at  Cherbourg,  however, 
quickly  spread  and  the  U.S.S.  Kearsarge  quickly  appeared 
cruising  up  and  down  beyond  the  three-mile  limit.  But  more 
welcome  than  the  sight  of  our  would-be  captor  was  a  pack- 
age of  letters  which  had  run  through  the  blockade  and  had 
been  forwarded  to  us  by  the  Confederate  agents,  Messrs. 
Fraser,  Trenholm  &  Co.,  of  Liverpool.  There  was  great 
rejoicing  for  all  save  me  —  I  received  two  saddening  mis- 
sives :  one  informed  me  of  the  death  of  my  brother  George, 
a  captain  in  the  First  Louisiana  Infantry,  in  "Stonewall" 
Jackson's  division;  and  when  I  opened  the  other  it  told  me 
of  the  death  of  my  brother  Thomas  Gibbes,  a  captain  of  the 
Seventh  Louisiana,  also  with  "Stonewall." 

Gibbes  had  been  badly  wounded  at  Antietam,  and  be- 
fore his  wound  was  well  healed  had  rejoined  his  regiment, 
with  the  survivors  of  which  he  had  been  captured  at 
Kelly's  Ford  while  covering  the  retreat  of  General  Lee's 
army.  He  was  taken  to  Johnson's  Island,  where  he  died 
a  prisoner,  leaving  a  charming  young  wife  and  two  little 


1 66        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

baby  boys  to  fight  their  own  way  in  those  troublous 
times. 

The  morning  after  our  arrival  I  was  sent  ashore  to  de- 
liver to  the  owners  of  the  brig  Diligente  the  letter  of  her 
captain.  The  owners  published  it,  and  it  was  well  for  us 
they  did,  for  already  the  French  authorities  had  demanded 
an  explanation  of  our  treatment  of  the  bark  Patrie.  It 
evened  things  up,  and  the  people  of  Cherbourg,  while  not 
at  all  gushing  over  us,  treated  us  with  courtesy. 

We  had  not  been  at  Cherbourg  twenty-four  hours  when 
the  French  ironclad  fleet,  headed  by  the  flagship  Couronne, 
the  vessel  that  afterwards  umpired  the  fight  between  the 
Alabama  and  the  Kearsarge,  entered  the  port,  and  the  next 
day  a  fleet  of  old-time  three-deckers,  line-of-battle  ships, 
also  anchored  near  us.  These,  with  the  hundreds  of  guns 
mounted  in  the  forts  and  on  the  breakwater  which  formed 
the  artificial  harbor,  were  certainly  enough  to  keep  even 
the  formidable  (?)  Georgia  in  order. 

C.S.  Cruiser  Georgia, 
Cherbourg,  France, 

December  5,  1863. 
My  dear  Mother:  — 

I  hope  that  you  don't  think  your  prodigal  has  forgotten  you. 
I  have  written  to  you  from  every  port,  but  directed  my  letters  to 
Clinton,  Louisiana,  via  the  blockade,  and  would  have  continued 
to  do  so  had  it  not  been  for  a  letter  I  received  here  from  Lily  [my 
sister  Mrs.  La  Noue]  dated  from  Macon,  Georgia,  telling  me  that 
you  had  returned  to  New  Orleans  and  were  within  the  Federal 
lines. 

We  have  been  in  the  drydock  and  the  bottom  of  our  ship  is 
clean  once  more,  but  she  does  look  so  ridiculously  small  alongside 
of  these  French  ironclads  and  the  great  wooden  line-of-battle 
ships.   There  are  about  twenty  of  them  in  all. 

There  has  been  a  great  storm  here.  Night  before  last  one  of 
the  line-of-battle  ships,  carrying  eighty-four  guns,  dragged  her 
anchors  and  only  brought  up  when  she  was  within  twenty  yards 
of  our  little  cockleshell  of  a  ship.  I  assure  you  we  spent  several 
hours  on  the  anxious  bench  while  expecting  every  moment  to  be 


Great  Storm  and  Loss  167 

crushed  by  the  Leviathan.  The  storm  raged  all  the  next  day,  the 
battleships,  as  well  as  our  little  craft,  pitching  bows  under  into 
every  sea.  Many  of  the  fishing  boats  were  wrecked  on  the  coast 
and  the  breakwater  supposed  to  protect  this  harbor,  which  it 
don't,  at  least  in  weather  like  this.  Many  tried  to  make  the  har- 
bor, but  were  pitilessly  thrown  on  the  rocks  and  ground  into  splin- 
ters among  the  boulders  on  the  beach.  One  little  fishing  craft 
made  such  a  noble  struggle  —  she  weathered  the  end  of  the  break- 
water, but  despite  her  heroic  efforts  it  was  evident  that  she  must 
be  wrecked  on  the  beach  before  reaching  smooth  water  or  shelter. 
Anticipating  trouble,  the  French  flagship,  the  ironclad  Couronne, 
had  a  launch  towing  astern  with  twenty  men  and  a  sub-lieutenant 
in  it.  The  Couronne  cast  her  off,  and  the  young  officer  made  a 
gallant  attempt  to  rescue  the  fisherman,  but  it  was  a  hopeless 
errand.  We  stood  in  silence  on  our  deck  and  watched  the  pitiful 
struggle  against  the  elements,  while  our  own  ship  was  dragging 
her  anchors  at  which  she  was  savagely  tugging  as  she  plunged 
bows  under  at  every  dive  and  the  huge  seas  would  sweep  over  our 
deck.  At  last  the  fishing  smack  struck  the  bottom  and  was  almost 
instantly  lifted  by  a  great  wave  which  carried  her  amongst  the 
boulders  smashing  her  to  pieces. 

Seeing  that  he  could  be  of  no  assistance  the  officer  in  the  launch 
attempted  to  put  her  about  —  but  she  also  was  doomed.  One 
moment  she  was  in  the  trough  of  the  sea  and  the  next  instant  the 
crest  of  a  great  wave  swept  over  her.  Wave  after  wave  followed  in 
rapid  succession,  turning  her  over  and  rolling  her  up  the  beach 
as  though  she  were  a  barrel,  until  she  struck  the  boulders  where 
she  was  literally  torn  to  pieces.  It  was  heartrending  to  watch 
those  who  had  not  been  killed,  or  too  badly  crippled  by  the  first 
shock,  struggling  to  save  themselves.  As  the  surf  would  recede, 
they  would  stagger  to  their  feet  only  to  be  knocked  down  by  the 
next  wave  and  thrown  violently  against  the  jagged  rocks,  and 
even  after  they  were  dead  the  pitiless  sea  continued  to  maim  the 
helpless  bodies  by  picking  them  up  and  slamming  them  down 
upon  the  stones. 

When  the  storm  abated,  the  remains  of  the  dead  were  recovered 
and  taken  to  the  navy  yard  where  they  were  prepared  for  burial. 
The  funeral,  the  next  day,  was  one  of  the  most  impressive  sights 
I  ever  witnessed.  Ten  thousand  soldiers  stood  at  "  Present  arms ! " 
on  either  side  of  the  road  leading  to  the  cemetery  as  the  procession 
passed  between  them.  First  came  a  large  number  of  priests  fol- 
lowed by  a  military  band  playing  the  Dead  March.   Then  came 


1 68   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

the  twenty-one  caissons  bearing  the  bodies,  each  drawn  by  six 
horses,  the  coffins  being  covered  by  the  much  loved  "tri-couleur." 
These  were  followed  by  a  number  of  admirals  and  naval  officers 
according  to  rank.  These  in  turn  were  followed  by  six  thousand 
sailors  from  the  fleet. 

Captain  Maury  was  invited  to  attend  the  ceremony,  and  took 
me  with  him  as  his  aide.  We  were  given  a  place  in  the  procession 
next  after  the  admirals. 

Arriving  at  the  cemetery,  we  stopped  in  front  of  a  great  trench 
where  all  of  those  gallant  fellows  were  to  be  interred  in  one  grave, 
except  the  young  officer  who  had  commanded  the  launch  —  he  had 
a  separate  grave.  His  was  the  last  coffin  to  be  buried,  and  just 
as  it  was  about  to  be  lowered  an  aide-de-camp  of  the  Emperor 
dashed  up  on  horseback,  and  saluting  Admiral  La  Rose,  the  rank- 
ing officer  present,  he  presented  him  with  an  order  from  the 
Emperor  and  also  a  small  package.  Admiral  La  Rose  read  the  or- 
der aloud.  It  commanded  that  the  accompanying  cross  of  the 
Legion  of  Honor  should  be  pinned  on  the  dead  officer's  breast. 
The  lid  of  the  coffin  was  unscrewed,  and  in  death  the  young  fellow 
was  decorated  with  the  bit  of  metal  he  had  doubtless  so  much 
coveted  in  life.  The  coffin  was  then  lowered  into  the  grave  and  the 
earth  covered  these  martyrs  to  duty. 

The  officers  and  men  then  withdrew  to  some  little  distance  from 
the  newly  made  graves  and  stood  watching  a  most  thrilling  spec- 
tacle as  battery  after  battery  of  horse  artillery  dashed  up  to  the 
edge  of  the  graves,  wheeled,  unlimbered,  fired  a  salvo,  limbered 
up  again  and  disappeared  at  the  gallop. 

You  may  say  what  you  please  about  Napoleonic  tyranny  (?), 
but  it  must  be  a  great  government  for  a  soldier  or  sailor  to  die 
under.  It  may  have  been  all  a  coup  de  thedtre,  but  it  looked  splen- 
did and  sent  a  thrill  through  me. 

I  can  form  no  idea  as  to  what  our  future  movements  will  be. 
If  I  knew  I  would  not  tell  you,  as  there  is  no  knowing  into  whose 
hands  this  letter  may  fall,  so  I  can  only  ask  you  to  continue  writ- 
ing me  in  care  of  Messrs.  Fraser,  Trenholm  &  Co.,  10  Rumford 
Place,  Liverpool,  England.  They  will  know  where  we  are  going, 
even  if  we  do  not. 

The  Kearsarge  is  off  the  port  waiting  for  us.  She  can  wait. 
When  the  little  Georgia's  bottom  is  cleaned,  we  will  slip  by  her  in 
the  night. 

The  last  cartoon  in  the  French  comic  papers,  making  fun  of  the 
American  war,  represents  two  newly  made  graves  alongside  of 


The  C.S.S.  Rappahannock  169 

each  other.  On  the  headstone  of  one  is  written  "Nord,"  and  on 
the  other  "Sud."  A  dilapidated  old  slouch  hat  with  a  rooster's 
feather  in  it  rests  on  each  grave,  and  underneath  is  written  — 
"Finis  de  la  guerre  dans  l'Amerique." 

And  now  I  must  say  good-bye,  my  dearest  mother.  With  love 
and  kisses  for  you  and  my  dear  sisters,  I  am 

Lovingly  your  son, 

James  Morris  Morgan. 

Captain  Maury  was  summoned  to  Paris  to  explain  about 
our  little  fracas  with  the  Patrie,  and  I  accompanied  him  as 
interpreter.  Commodore  Barron,  C.S.N. ,  and  some  twenty- 
odd  other  Confederate  naval  officers  were  in  Paris  by  this 
time,  the  juniors  waiting  for  ships  that  were  building.  At 
Captain  Maury's  own  request,  on  account  of  his  health, 
Commodore  Barron  relieved  him  from  the  command  of 
the  Georgia  and  ordered  him  to  return  to  the  Confederacy 
—  so  I  went  back  to  my  ship  alone. 

Every  officer  on  the  Georgia  who  could  get  leave  got  it, 
and  Lieutenant  Ingraham  and  I  had  to  keep  watch  and 
watch,  that  is,  four  hours  on  and  four  off  —  sounds  easy, 
but  is  rather  trying  on  a  growing  boy.  There  was  no 
competition  among  the  higher  officers  for  the  honor  of  com- 
manding the  Georgia,  so  the  post  was  conferred  on  Lieu- 
tenant Evans.  As  for  the  juniors  in  Paris,  they  showed  no 
wild  desire  to  serve  on  the  little  ship,  either.  Two  lieu- 
tenants who  had  a  strong  pull  with  the  commodore  came 
to  us,  but  managed  to  secure  their  detachments  after  being 
on  board  only  a  couple  of  days. 

The  monotony  of  my  existence  was  broken  by  my  being 
granted  a  week's  leave  of  absence,  which  I  utilized  by  going 
to  Paris,  and  from  there  to  Calais  to  visit  some  midship- 
men who  were  on  board  of  the  C.S.S.  Rappahannock,  with 
whom  I  spent  a  morning  before  continuing  my  journey  to 
Liverpool.  The  Rappahannock  is  worthy  of  being  men- 
tioned, if  only  on  account  of  the  unusual  way  in  which  she 
escaped  from  the  Thames  to  become  a  Confederate  cruiser. 


170   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

She  was  a  condemned  little  British  sloop-of-war  and  had 
been  sold  at  auction  and  bought  by  a  Confederate  agent. 
The  British  Government  knew  all  about  the  transaction 
and  was  perfectly  willing  that  the  Confederates  should 
spend  all  the  money  they  wanted  to  on  her,  but  had  no 
intention  whatever  of  allowing  her  to  escape  to  sea.  English 
engineers,  riggers,  carpenters,  joiners,  and  painters  were 
busily  at  work  on  her  as  she  lay  at  the  dock,  when  one  day 
Lieutenant  W.  P.  A.  Campbell,  C.S.N. ,  attired  in  civilian 
clothes,  appeared  on  board  of  her  armed  with  authority 
from  the  supposed  owner  to  make  a  thorough  inspection. 
It  also  conveniently  happened  that  the  engineers  had  up 
steam  and  were  testing  the  engines  which  they  were 
slowly  turning  over.  Mr.  Campbell  amiably  expressed 
satisfaction  with  everything  except  the  steering  gear,  and 
insisted  that  the  only  way  of  testing  that  was  to  take  the 
vessel  out  into  the  stream  and  turn  her  around  two  or 
three  times.  This  was  amiably  agreed  to  and  the  lines  se- 
curing her  to  the  dock  were  cast  off.  Mr.  Campbell  headed 
her  down  the  river,  and  listening  to  no  protests,  hoisted 
the  Confederate  flag  when  he  was  beyond  the  marine 
league,  and  with  his  unwilling  crew  of  artisans  steered  for 
Calais,  which  neutral  port  he  entered  claiming  to  be  a 
Confederate  States  man-of-war.  Of  course  the  incident 
brought  protests  from  the  American  Minister  in  London 
and  in  Paris  and  stirred  up  quite  an  international  row. 

When  I  saw  the  Rappahannock  at  Calais,  the  French 
were  allowing  us  to  spend  all  the  money  we  wanted  to 
in  fitting  her  for  sea,  but  I  do  not  believe  they  had  the 
vaguest  idea  of  ever  letting  her  escape  again. 

Continuing  my  journey  to  Liverpool,  I  spent  two  or 
three  delightful  days  visiting  Mr.  Prioleau  at  Allerton 
Hall,  where  I  met  an  old  friend  from  New  Orleans,  Mr. 
C.  W.  Miltenberger,  and  Alfred  Trenholm  (whose  clothes 
I  had  worn  while  in  Charleston).  These  young  gentle- 
men, on   account  of   failing  health,  had  been  discharged 


MAJOR  W.  P.  A.  CAMPBELL 

Formerly  of  the  C.S.  Navy.     Taken  in  Cairo  in  1S70 


Kearsarge  and  Tuscarora  171 

from  the  Confederate  Army  and  were  recuperating  in 
Europe. 

My  leave  expired,  and  I  returned  to  the  monotony  of 
my  existence  on  board  of  the  Georgia.  It  seemed  that  we 
never  should  get  to  sea  again.  Drills,  watches,  and  meals 
—  meals,  watches,  and  drills.  I  don't  think  the  French 
cared  how  long  we  remained  so  long  as  we  spent  money 
liberally  on  imaginary  repairs  (?). 

At  last  Lieutenant  Kirby  King  and  Sydney  Smith  Lee, 
the  latter  a  younger  brother  of  General  Fitzhugh  Lee,  were 
ordered  to  us,  and  that  put  an  end  to  the  discomfort  of 
keeping  watch  and  watch,  much  to  my  delight.  I  suppose 
that  our  weariness  of  remaining  in  an  uninteresting  port 
was  only  equaled  by  that  of  the  crews  of  the  Kearsarge  and 
the  Tuscarora  who  were  tumbling  about  in  the  chop  seas 
of  the  Channel  waiting  impatiently  for  us  to  come  out. 
They  would  take  turns  in  coming  in  close  enough  to  the 
breakwater  every  day  or  two  to  see  if  we  were  still  there 
in  the  harbor,  until  I  think  we  should  have  felt  neglected 
if  they  had  failed  to  take  an  interest  in  us  and  ceased  their 
visits. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Leave  Cherbourg  —  Storm  off  Cape  Trafalgar  —  Coast  of  Morocco  — 
Anchor  in  the  open  sea  near  the  Great  Desert  —  Caravans  —  Moors  bring 
fish  —  Ancient  Moor  swims  to  the  ship  —  We  return  visits  and  are  kicked  into 
the  sea  —  We  bombard  the  troglodytes  —  Give  up  hope  that  the  Rappa- 
hannock will  meet  us  —  Weigh  anchor  and  have  a  narrow  escape  from  ship- 
wreck and  falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Moors. 

One  dark  night  in  the  middle  of  February,  1864,  we 
weighed  our  anchor  as  quietly  as  possible,  got  under  way, 
and  slipped  out  of  the  western  entrance  to  the  harbor 
without  seeing  anything  of  either  the  Kearsarge  or  her 
consort,  and  with  a  clean  bottom  raced  down  the  Channel 
and  soon  found  ourselves  on  the  broad  Atlantic.  We  saw 
many  ships,  but  molested  none.  Strange  conduct  for  the 
Georgia,  at  which  we  wondered.  But  none  knew,  save  our 
commander,  whither  we  were  bound,  or  what  was  our 
mission.   Day  after  day  we  raced  at  full  speed  under  steam. 

Off  Cape  Trafalgar  one  night  we  ran  into  a  fearful 
storm,  the  most  terrific  in  my  seafaring  experience.  We 
put  the  ship's  head  into  the  wind  and  barely  kept  steerage- 
way  on  her.  The  high  seas  dashed  over  the  ship  in  such 
volumes  of  water  that  to  keep  from  being  washed  over- 
board, Lieutenant  King,  the  quartermaster,  and  I  lashed 
ourselves  in  the  rigging  ten  feet  above  the  deck.  At  one 
time  the  wind  was  so  furious  that  it  blew  the  tops  off  the 
enormous  waves  and  the  sea  became  one  mass  of  seeth- 
ing foam  in  which  the  little  Georgia  floundered  and  wal- 
lowed until  we  had  but  little  hopes  that  she  would  live 
through  it.  But  with  daylight  fortunately,  for  us,  both 
sea  and  wind  went  down,  and  by  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing the  officers  were  able  to  come  out  of  the  wardroom 
and  we  were  relieved.  The  door  leading  into  the  officers' 
quarters  as  well  as  the  hatches  had  been  battened  down 
to  keep  the  water  out,  and  no  one  could  get  in  or  out  while 


Coast  of  Morocco  173 

the  storm  raged.  Mr.  King  and  I,  as  well  as  the  starboard 
watch,  had  been  on  deck  since  eight  o'clock  the  previous 
evening,  and  more  exhausted  men  than  we  were  could 
hardly  be  imagined. 

The  first  land  we  sighted  was  the  coast  of  Morocco. 
We  passed  down  the  coast  in  plain  sight  of  the  minarets  of 
the  ancient  city  of  Mogador.  When  we  reached  a  place 
where  a  range  of  barren-looking  mountains  ended  at  the 
sea  and  the  great  Sahara  Desert  extended  into  the  unknown 
to  the  east  and  south,  we  dropped  our  anchor  in  the  open 
ocean  about  a  mile  or  more  from  the  shore  and  about 
forty  miles  south  of  Mogador.  We  could  see  no  signs  of 
vegetable  or  other  life  on  the  desolate-looking  land,  with 
the  exception  of  some  bushes  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains. 
Day  after  day  we  lay  there  lazily  rolling  on  the  swell  of 
the  sea,  the  monotony  only  being  broken  occasionally  by 
watching  camel  caravans  to  or  from  Mogador  come  along 
the  beach  and  wind  their  way  around  the  mountains,  dis- 
appearing in  the  apparently  limitless  and  glaring  desert 
waste. 

When  the  sirocco  came  in  our  direction  from  across  the 
burning  desert,  it  carried  with  it  line  particles  of  sand  which 
got  into  our  eyes,  ears,  nose,  and  mouth,  causing  much 
discomfort,  and  added  to  this  was  the  almost  intolerable 
heat  thrown  off  in  the  night  by  the  thin  iron  sides  of  the 
ship,  which  made  sleep  almost  impossible. 

Early  one  morning  we  were  surprised  by  seeing  an  open 
rowboat  near  us  with  five  or  six  Moors  in  it.  They  came 
alongside  the  ship  and  offered  us  some  fresh  fish  which  we 
gratefully  accepted,  giving  in  exchange  some  old  hoop 
iron,  two  old  rusty  razors,  and  two  or  three  dilapidated  old 
sheets  out  of  which  turbans  could  be  fashioned.  These  were 
much  prized,  and  when  they  left  us  the  last  we  saw  of  them 
as  they  proceeded  parallel  with  the  beach  instead  of  pulling 
for  the  shore,  they  were  evidently  wrangling  as  to  which 
of  them  should  have  the  turban  material. 


174        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

With  the  exception  of  the  fishermen  we  had  seen  no  evi- 
dence of  there  being  inhabitants  living  on  the  shore  near 
us,  although  we  had  been  at  anchor  for  more  than  three 
weeks,  until  about  four  o'clock  one  afternoon  a  round  object, 
looking  somewhat  like  a  white  sponge,  was  seen  floating 
on  the  sea  about  half  a  mile  off  and  between  the  ship  and 
the  shore.  The  waves  were  some  four  or  five  feet  high, 
and  as  the  strange  object  bobbed  up  and  down  on  them  it 
was  soon  discovered  that  it  was  coming  toward  us,  and  as 
it  came  nearer  we  discovered  that  it  was  the  head  of  an 
old  man.  Finally  he  reached  our  vessel  and  we  lowered  a 
Jacob's  ladder  over  the  taffrail  for  him.  With  great  effort 
he  dragged  himself  up  it  and  fell  exhausted  on  the  deck. 
Dr.  Wheeden  revived  him  with  a  drink  of  brandy  and  would 
have  repeated  the  dose,  but  the  old  Mohammedan  —  true 
to  his  religion  now  that  he  had  recovered  his  senses  — 
pointed  a  bony  finger  heavenward,  shook  his  hoary  head, 
and  muttered  the  holy  name  of  Allah!  When  the  old  man 
was  sufficiently  rested,  as  he  was  clothed  by  only  a  ragged 
piece  of  sacking  which  was  wrapped  around  his  loins,  we 
gave  him  some  Christian  raiment  and  a  lot  of  old  trash, 
for  which  he  seemed  very  grateful,  and  then  we  put 
him  in  one  of  our  boats  which  I  was  ordered  to  take 
charge  of,  and  put  him  on  shore.  Nearing  the  beach  the 
water  became  so  shoal  that  the  boat  grounded  when 
more  than  twenty  yards  away  from  it,  but  the  old  man 
stepped  over  the  side  and  waded  ashore  with  his  newly  ac- 
quired treasures  held  high  above  his  head.  I  saw  no  other 
human  being  in  sight  and  left  him  to  find  his  way  home 
alone. 

Several  of  us,  seeing  that  the  few  natives  we  had  met 
were  apparently  disposed  to  be  friendly,  asked  permission 
to  go  ashore  to  stretch  our  legs  with  a  little  exercise.  The 
captain  granted  our  request,  at  the  same  time  instructing 
us  to  go  unarmed  as  evidence  of  our  friendly  intentions  if 
by  chance  we  met  any  of  the  inhabitants.    We  got  into  a 


Kicked  into  the  Sea  175 

boat,  and  like  little  boys  going  on  a  holiday  laughed  and 
joked  with  glee  until  the  boat  grounded,  and  the  sailors, 
with  the  exception  of  two  boat-keepers,  stepped  into  the 
water,  and  we  mounted  on  their  backs  and  rode  ashore, 
dry  shod,  in  great  style. 

It  was  delightful  to  feel  the  solid  ground,  or  sand  as  it 
happened  to  be,  under  our  feet  once  more,  and  we  began  at 
once  to  run  and  skylark  up  and  down  the  beach.  At  the 
foot  of  the  cliffs,  some  forty  yards  from  the  water,  there  was 
a  growth  of  dwarf  bushes.  Suddenly  —  I  never  did  know 
how  it  happened  —  we  were  separated  and  surrounded  by 
hundreds  of  Moors  armed  with  spears  and  old-fashioned 
guns  of  extraordinary  length  whose  barrels  were  banded 
with  silver  at  intervals  of  a  foot  or  two  apart.  The  Moors 
were  shaking  their  guns  and  brandishing  their  spears  while 
yelling  like  fiends,  and  all  the  time  a  seemingly  endless 
stream  of  the  black  demons  poured  out  from  the  bushes.  I 
tried  to  see  what  had  become  of  my  companions,  but  could 
only  discern  a  surging,  struggling  mass  of  Moors  in  every 
direction.  One  gigantic  fellow  seized  me  from  behind  and 
whirled  me  around  until  I  faced  the  sea,  and  while  others 
struck  me  with  their  hands,  my  particular  giant  preferred 
to  use  his  feet,  and  he  kicked  me  until  I  was  almost  up  to  my 
neck  in  the  water.  From  my  sensations  I  should  judge  that 
the  sole  of  that  Moor's  foot  without  further  roughening 
would  have  served  very  well  for  a  blacksmith's  rasp.  Our 
unarmed  boat-keepers  gamely  waited  for  us,  and  when  I 
climbed  into  the  boat  I  found  my  companions,  who  had 
been  similarly  treated,  already  there  —  safe  but  very  wet, 
and  looking  very  foolish. 

When  we  returned  to  the  Georgia  we  were  disposed  to 
treat  our  experiences  at  the  hands  of  the  Moors  as  a  good 
joke,  but  our  young  captain  could  not  be  induced  to  regard 
the  matter  in  that  light.  In  fact  he  was  very  indignant  and 
ordered  the  drummer  to  beat  to  quarters  without  giving  us 
time  to  take  off  our  dripping  clothes.    The  guns  were  cast 


176        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

loose  and  the  order  to  fire  given.  The  guns  roared  and  the 
screeching  shells  sped  away  to  burst  over  the  heads  of  the 
astounded  Moors,  who  stood  not  upon  the  order  of  their 
going,  but  disappeared,  not  however  so  mysteriously  as 
they  had  appeared  on  the  scene.  The  puzzle  was  solved: 
they  seemed  to  run  right  into  the  side  of  the  cliff.  Evidently 
they  were  troglodytes  and  the  caves  were  their  homes. 
Whether  or  not  our  shells  had  hurt  any  of  them  we  never 
knew. 

Three  weeks  and  more  had  passed  and  we  were  getting 
very  wearied.  Our  mission  was  now  no  longer  a  secret.  We 
were  waiting  for  the  Rappahannock  for  the  purpose  of  giving 
her  our  battery,  ammunition,  and  a  part  of  our  crew  —  she 
was  supposed  to  bring  her  own  officers. 

The  evening  after  our  little  fracas  with  the  moody  Moors, 
the  hour  at  which  the  discipline  of  the  ship  was  usually  sus- 
pended and  when  the  men,  after  their  day's  work,  gathered 
on  the  forecastle  and  sang  their  sailor  songs,  while  the  offi- 
cers, having  dined,  were  seated  around  the  waist  guns  en- 
joying their  cigars  and  engaged  in  conversation  or  dreamily 
listening  to  the  words  of  a  favorite  sailor  ditty,  the  refrain 
of  which  was,  "Eight  bells  began  to  go:  I  love  to  hear  them 
ring,  my  dear,  and  so  do  you,  I  know"  —  at  this  hour,  the 
most  pleasant  of  the  twenty-four,  when  even  a  lonesome 
midshipman  could  butt  into  the  conversation  without,  fear 
of  being  snubbed  —  the  lonely  captain,  it  seemed,  also 
craved  the  society  of  his  fellow  men,  and  he  joined  the  group 
around  the  gun  where  we  were  speculating  on  the  causes 
which  might  have  delayed  the  Rappahannock.  I  was  the 
only  person  on  board  who  had  ever  seen  her,  and  I  expressed 
the  opinion  that  she  had  never  left  port,  and  that  anyhow 
I  believed  the  little  Georgia,  bad  as  she  was,  was  the  better 
ship  of  the  two  —  that  the  Rappahannock  was  a  bluff- 
bowed  old  water-bruiser  that  did  not  have  any  speed  under 
steam,  and  that  my  friends,  the  midshipmen,  on  board  of 
her  had  told  me  she  was  "hogged"  (strained)  by  lying  on 


A  Narrow  Escape  from  Shipwreck        177 

the  uneven  bottom  at  low  tide.  I  wound  up  my  remarks  by 
saying  that  unless  the  French  Government  had  changed  its 
attitude  toward  the  Confederacy,  there  was  little  chance  of 
the  Rappahannock  ever  joining  us,  as  when  I  had  seen  her 
in  the  slip  at  Calais  two  big  chain  cables  were  stretched  from 
pier  to  pier,  one  in  front  of  her  bow  and  the  other  behind 
her  stern,  and  that  they  were  made  fast  around  stone  posts, 
and  on  each  post  sat  a  gendarme  to  see  that  they  were  not 
meddled  with.  The  captain  said  he  would  give  her  just 
forty-eight  hours  more  to  put  in  an  appearance,  and  if  by 
that  time  she  failed  to  materialize  he  would  go  and  look  for 
her. 

We  did  not  wait  the  forty-eight  hours  of  grace  we  had 
given  the  dilatory  Rappahannock,  as  something  exciting 
happened  which  changed  our  plans.  A  little  before  sundown 
the  following  day  the  wind  came  out  from  the  southwest 
and  blew  a  gale.  The  Georgia  began  to  pitch  bows  under 
with  every  sea  that  struck  her,  and  then  to  drag  her  anchor. 
We  paid  out  more  cable,  but  still  she  dragged.  We  let  go  our 
other  anchor,  but  the  force  of  the  wind  increasing,  we  con- 
tinued our  promenade  toward  the  rocky  shore  on  which  by 
this  time  the  Moors,  having  become  aware  of  the  straits  we 
were  in,  had  assembled  in  hundreds  to  give  us  a  warm  recep- 
tion in  return  for  the  compliments  our  guns  had  hurled  at 
them  the  day  before. 

Our  fires  were  banked  while  we  lay  at  anchor,  and  the 
stokers  appreciating  the  imminent  danger  were  working  like 
mad  to  get  up  steam.  We  were  now  within  some  two  hun- 
dred yards  of  the  shore,  and  an  ugly  black  rock  some  thirty 
feet  away  poked  out  its  head  between  the  angry-looking 
waves  as  they  swept  over  it.  The  Moors,  like  so  many  de- 
mons, were  dancing  with  delight  on  the  shore  while  yelling 
curses  at  us.  No  matter  how  ignorant  one  is  of  a  savage 
language,  there  is  no  need  for  an  interpreter  when  the 
natives  are  swearing  at  a  fellow.  Night  was  fast  closing  in 
on  us  when  at  last  the  engineer  reported  that  there  was 


178   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

steam  enough  to  start  the  engines.  The  order  was  given  to 
go  ahead  and  the  engine  was  started.  Slowly  at  first,  but 
with  increasing  velocity  it  relieved  the  strain  on  our  cables, 
when,  just  as  we  had  begun  to  have  hopes  that  we  were 
saved,  there  was  a  crash  in  the  engine  room  and  we  knew 
that  the  wooden  cogs  had  broken  again !  For  two  hours  the 
engineers  worked  to  repair  the  damage,  and  fortunately 
during  this  time  the  anchors  held  so  well  that  the  ship's 
progress  toward  destruction  was  very  little,  if  any.  It  was 
a  long  and  anxious  two  hours,  and  above  the  roar  of  the 
wind  we  could  hear  the  yells  of  triumph  emanating  from 
the  throats  of  those  black  devils  waiting  for  the  catastrophe 
which  was  to  put  us  in  their  power,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
loot  they  expected  to  get  out  of  the  wreck  of  the  ship.  At 
last  the  engine  began  to  revolve  again  —  at  first  very  slowly, 
and  we  anxiously  followed  each  revolution  in  mortal  dread 
that  it  would  break  down  again,  but  as  it  increased  in  power 
and  took  the  strain  off  of  our  anchors  we  commenced  to 
breathe  freely  again.  Then  came  the  welcome  order  to 
weigh  the  port  anchor,  and  after  an  interval  the  other  was 
also  catheaded;  but  the  progress  we  made  away  from  the 
shore  was  woefully  slow  in  the  teeth  of  that  gale.  When  day 
at  last  came  we  were  clear  of  the  danger  and  well  out  at  sea 
with  a  clear  appreciation  of  Jack's  sympathy  in  a  storm  for 
''the  poor  people  ashore  in  danger  of  having  their  heads 
broken  by  falling  tiles  from  the  roofs."  It  was  a  most  nar- 
row and  fortunate  escape  for  us  slaveholders,  as  had  we  not 
been  drowned  in  the  surf,  we  most  assuredly  should  have 
been  either  murdered  on  the  shore,  or,  worse  still,  sold  into 
slavery  in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  Moors  in  dis- 
posing of  their  prisoners.  Even  if  our  fate  had  ever  become 
known  to  the  outside  world,  there  was  no  nation  on  earth 
that  would  have  lifted  a  voice  for  our  release,  save  the 
helpless  and  unrecognized  "Confederate  States"  which 
were  already  doomed  for  extinction. 

I  have  always  called  this  episode  "the  Confederacy's  only 


Arrival  at  Bordeaux  179 

Foreign  War,"  unless  that  unfortunate  affair  with  the  Patrie 
could  be  called  a  hostile  event. 

After  a  stormy  voyage  we  arrived  off  the  mouth  of  the 
Garonne  River,  up  which  stream  we  steamed  and  dropped 
anchor  in  front  of  the  city  of  Bordeaux. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Bordeaux  —  U.S.S.  Niagara  and  Sacramento  wait  outside  for  us  —  Two 
fine  sloops-of-war  intended  for  the  Confederacy  lay  near,  but  beyond  our 
reach  —  Escape  from  the  United  States  men-of-war  —  Liverpool  —  A  hero  at 
last  —  Georgia  put  out  of  commission  —  Georgia  captured  by  U.S.S.  Niagara 
—  Last  of  the  Georgia  —  Men-of-war,  privateers,  and  pirates. 

No  sooner  was  it  known  that  we  had  arrived  at  Bordeaux 
than  we  were  informed  that  the  Georgia  must  leave  at  the 
expiration  of  twenty-four  hours  —  but  what  we  did  not 
know  about  dodging  neutrality  proclamations  was  not 
worth  learning.  So  on  one  pretext  or  another  we  made  our- 
selves comfortable  and  prepared  for  an  extended  visit  to 
our  unwilling  hosts.  The  Niagara  and  the  Sacramento,  two 
formidable  men-of-war,  were  waiting  for  us  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river. 

Day  after  day  we  gazed  on  two  beautiful  new  and  freshly 
painted  sloops-of-war  intended  to  carry  ten  guns  each.  They 
lay  in  the  stream  only  about  half  a  mile  from  us,  and  the 
sight  was  tantalizing,  for  they  belonged  to  us  and  had  been 
paid  for  with  our  money,  and  there  they  were,  so  very  near, 
but  far  beyond  our  reach,  and  there  we  were  cooped  up  in  a 
little  floating  iron  pot  without  speed  enough  to  escape  from 
an  enemy  or  strength  sufficient  to  fight  one.  With  boilers 
and  engines  away  above  the  water  line  it  would  have  taken 
an  expert  marksman  to  hit  the  Georgia  any  place  except 
in  the  magazines,  boilers,  or  machinery.  The  French  had 
allowed  us  to  build  these  formidable  ships  knowing  what 
they  were  intended  for.  They  had  taken  our  money,  and 
now  that  they  were  finished,  the  Government  suddenly 
became  very  punctilious  about  its  neutrality. 

An  order  had  come  through  the  blockade  that  the 
Georgia,  on  account  of  her  deficiencies  in  speed  and  fighting 
ability,  should  be  put  out  of  commission,  and  we  thought 
we  were  going  to  part  with  the  little  ship  in  Bordeaux,  but 


Liverpool  181 

we  were  mistaken.  It  was  written  that  we  should  take  one 
more  chance  in  her.  We  knew  that  two  United  States  men- 
of-war  were  lying  off  the  mouth  of  the  Garonne  and  that 
either  of  them,  if  they  caught  sight  of  us,  would  have  us  at 
their  mercy,  and  we  were  somewhat  surprised  when  the 
order  reached  us  to  proceed  to  Liverpool  before  dismantling 
the  ship.  We  got  under  way  very  quietly  and  proceeded 
down  the  river  to  a  point  just  out  of  sight  of  its  mouth  and 
there  waited  for  night  to  shield  us  from  our  enemies.  It  was 
very  dark  when  we  passed  out  of  the  Garonne  and  crept  by 
the  big  ships  which  apparently  did  not  even  suspect  our 
proximity.  We  crossed  the  Bay  of  Biscay  without  further 
adventure  and  entered  St.  George's  Channel  where  it  was 
very  foggy.  A  pilot  boat  approached  us  and  asked  if  we 
wanted  a  pilot.  We  told  him  "yes"  and  at  the  same  time 
hoisted  the  Confederate  flag.  When  the  pilot,  who  had  not 
yet  left  his  boat,  saw  the  colors,  he  rudely  remarked  that 
he  ' '  would  be  damned  if  he  would  pilot  any  damned  pirate ! ' ' 
—  and  going  about,  he  disappeared  in  the  fog  while  express- 
ing the  very  humane  hope  that  we  would  pile  up  on  the 
rocks.  Despite  his  kind  wishes,  however,  we  safely  entered 
the  Mersey  and  dropped  anchor  off  Birkenhead,  opposite 
Liverpool,  about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  anchor 
had  barely  time  to  reach  the  bottom  when  the  captain  sent 
for  me  and  said  he  was  going  to  allow  me  to  go  ashore  at 
once,  as  I  had  friends  in  Liverpool,  but  stipulated  that  I 
should  wear  my  uniform.  We  had  heard  that  feeling  toward 
us  had  changed  and  English  sympathy,  especially  among  the 
lower  classes,  was  now  very  much  in  favor  of  the  North. 
If  that  was  so  I  did  not  see  any  exhibition  of  it  —  I  have 
always  suspected  that  my  captain  used  me  as  a  trial  horse 
to  ascertain  what  sort  of  a  reception  awaited  us.  If  that  was 
his  object,  he  ought  to  have  felt  highly  gratified  with  his 
experiment,  for  I  went  alone  to  a  theatre  that  night,  and  as 
soon  as  my  gray  uniform  was  noticed  a  whisper  went 
through  the  audience  that  the  Alabama  had  arrived  in  the 


1 82        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

port.  Some  one  proposed  three  cheers  for  the  Alabama,  and 
they  were  given  with  a  will.  The  manager  of  the  theatre 
elbowed  his  way  to  where  I  was  sitting  and  asked  me  to 
accompany  him.  I  thought  he  was  going  to  put  me  out,  but 
instead  of  that  he  escorted  me  to  a  box  and  kindly  took  a 
seat  by  me.  Every  time  the  curtain  went  down,  the  audience 
cheered,  not  the  actors,  but  the  Alabama  —  and  every  time 
they  cheered  the  manager  would  insist  that  I  should  stand 
up  and  bow  my  acknowledgments  of  the  compliment.  After 
the  show  was  over,  perfect  strangers  introduced  themselves 
and  begged  for  the  honor  of  my  company  at  supper,  but  the 
manager,  who  had  taken  complete  possession  of  me  by  this 
time,  declined  all  invitations  for  me,  and  carried  me  off  in 
triumph  to  sup  with  some  of  the  leading  actors  and  actresses 
of  his  company,  who  made  much  of  me.  If  I  was  not  a  hero 
I  was  at  least  conspicuous  on  this  occasion,  and  what  does 
a  hero  go  heroing  for  if  it  is  not  to  be  flattered  by  such 
receptions  as  this  one  was? 

On  the  ioth  of  May,  1864,  the  little  Georgia  was  warped 
into  the  Birkenhead  dock.  All  hands  were  summoned  to 
the  quarter-deck  for  the  last  time.  Our  captain  read  his 
orders  to  put  the  ship  out  of  commission.  At  the  word  of 
command,  the  Confederate  flag,  proudly  flying  at  the  peak, 
the  Union  Jack  on  the  bowsprit,  and  the  commander's 
pennant  at  the  masthead,  all  came  fluttering  down  to- 
gether —  and  the  cruise  of  the  Georgia  had  passed  into 
history.  She  was  a  poor  miserable  little  tin  kettle  of  a  craft, 
but  I  loved  her.  I  too  was  poor,  and  nothing  much  to  brag 
of,  and  despite  the  fact  that  my  life,  as  the  youngest  of  her 
officers,  and  the  only  one  of  my  grade,  had  been  very 
lonely,  still  she  had  been  the  only  home  I  had  known  for 
thirteen  months  and  had  borne  me  safely  through  many 
dangers  and  over  thirty-three  thousand  miles  of  water. 
We  bade  good-bye  to  our  shipmates  —  many  of  us  never 
to  meet  again,  and  now  (19 16)  I  believe  myself  to  be  the 
only  survivor  of  the  officers  of  the  lucky  little  cruiser. 


Last  of  the  Georgia  183 

The  Georgia  was  dismantled  and  sold  to  an  Englishman 
by  the  name  of  Jones,  who,  in  good  faith,  fitted  her  out  as 
a  merchantman  and  entered  into  a  contract  with  the  Por- 
tuguese Government  to  carry  the  mails  between  Lisbon 
and  the  Cape  Verde  Islands.  When  she  arrived  off  the 
mouth  of  the  Tagus  intending  to  take  on  board  the  Lisbon 
mails,  she  was  captured  by  the  U.S.S.  Niagara,  her  old 
pursuer,  and  sent  to  the  United  States  as  a  prize.  Her  owner 
never  again  saw  his  ship  or  his  money. 

Once  again  I  saw  the  Georgia  —  in  1866.  On  this  occa- 
sion she  was  lying  at  a  wharf  in  Charleston  Harbor  being 
loaded  with  cotton.  I  don't  believe  she  had  been  painted 
since  I  left  her  in  Liverpool  and  she  looked  like  any  other 
dirty  old  tramp  steamer.  I  asked  her  mate  if  the  wooden 
cogs  ever  gave  him  any  trouble,  and  he  replied,  "Only 
when  she  gets  us  in  a  tight  place  in  bad  weather,  or  we 
are  trying  to  avoid  a  collision."  In  1867  the  Georgia  was 
wrecked  on  the  rocky  coast  of  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence 
where  her  iron  bones  slowly  rusted  away. 

The  damage  done  to  the  North  by  these  little  cruisers 
should  not  be  estimated  simply  by  the  number  of  ships 
they  captured,  for  it  should  be  remembered  that  for  every 
ship  burned  hundreds  took  shelter  under  neutral  flags 
never  to  return  to  the  American  mercantile  marine.  No 
country  ever  erected  so  many  monuments  to  its  soldiers 
as  can  be  seen  in  the  Southern  States,  and  yet  there  is  not 
a  single  memorial  to  the  Confederate  Navy.  If  the  object 
of  war  is  to  inflict  damage  on  the  enemy,  how  stands  the 
account  between  the  army  and  navy  of  the  South?  Twice 
the  Southern  armies  invaded  the  territory  of  the  North, 
and  on  each  occasion  were  hurled  back  across  the  Potomac 
before  they  had  had  time  to  spy  out  the  richness  of  their 
foe's  land.  It  is  true  that  they  fought  valiantly  and  killed 
many  brave  Northerners  and  more  German  mercenaries, 
but  the  loss  of  these  men  did  not  affect  the  conquerors  in 
the  least  as  they  swept  through  the  fair  Southern  land  with 


184   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

fire  and  sword.  But  the  Confederate  Navy  struck  the 
North  such  a  vital  blow,  by  destroying  their  mercantile 
marine,  that  although  half  a  century  has  elapsed  since  the 
scenes  I  have  tried  to  describe  took  place,  the  United 
States  has  not  yet,  and  will  not  for  many  years  to  come, 
recover  her  former  lucrative  carrying  trade  on  the  high 
seas. 

The  Southern  naval  officer  has  never  been  able  to  under- 
stand why  his  compatriots  always  refer  to  the  Alabama 
and  her  consorts  as  "privateers."  Why  privateers?  A 
privateer  is  a  vessel  belonging  to  private  parties,  as  its 
name  implies.  She  is  provided  with  a  "letter  of  marque" 
authorizing  her  to  prey  on  ships  belonging  to  an  enemy, 
and  also  to  protect  her  against  being  treated  as  a  pirate. 
A  privateersman  is  a  fellow  with  all  the  instincts  of  a  pirate, 
but  without  the  courage  to  hoist  the  "Jolly  Roger." 

A  man-of-war  is  a  national  ship,  a  sort  of  floating  fortress, 
belonging  to  a  government.  Her  officers  hold  commissions 
under  that  government,  and  her  crew  are  shipped  regu- 
larly in  exactly  the  same  way  soldiers  are  mustered  into 
the  army  on  land.  Her  officers  take  prizes  or  burn  ships 
only  in  obedience  to  orders  which  they  are  sworn  to  obey 
and  not  for  the  object  of  enriching  themselves. 

In  the  North  the  Confederate  cruisers  are  always  spoken 
of  as  damnpirates,  as  though  it  was  one  word.  Why?  These 
ships  were  regularly  commissioned  by  a  de  facto  govern- 
ment to  whom  they  belonged,  and  were  officered  by  men 
who,  with  rare  exceptions,  were  the  product  of  the  United 
States  Naval  Academy.  The  crews  were  regularly  enlisted 
men.  As  a  man-of-warsman  is  simply  a  soldier  who  fights 
on  the  water,  how  came  it  that  I  was  a  pirate  on  the  Georgia 
and  became  a  regular  Confederate  naval  officer  when  at- 
tached to  a  naval  battery  on  shore?  Was  it  because  of  the 
boat  and  the  water?  If  so,  did  the  armies  of  Lee  and  John- 
ston become  pirates  and  deserve  the  hangman's  noose  every 
time  they  crossed  a  river  on  a  pontoon  bridge  or  waded  a 


The  "  Damnpirates  "  185 

creek?  Why  should  a  man  who  cannot  restrain  patriotic 
cheers  whenever  he  hears  a  band  play  "Marching  through 
Georgia,"  yell  with  rage  and  indignation  when  the  destruc- 
tion wrought  by  the  Southern  cruisers  is  mentioned?  Is  the 
use  of  the  torch  in  war  so  much  more  reprehensible  on  the 
water  than  it  is  on  land? 

Some  day,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  an  unbiased  history  will  be 
written  which  will  give  full  credit  to  the  Confederate  Navy, 
not  only  for  the  gallant  manner  in  which  it  bore  itself 
in  action,  but  also  for  the  wonderful  resourcefulness  dis- 
played by  its  officers,  who,  when  the  "bonnie  blue  flag 
was  hoisted  on  high,"  found  that  their  navy  consisted 
of  one  burned  frigate,  and  what  was  left  of  her  was  sunk 
alongside  of  the  navy-yard  dock  at  Norfolk.  This  wreck 
they,  by  original  designs  of  their  own,  converted  into  the 
formidable  ironclad  ram  Virginia.  The  only  thing  about 
her  that  never  would  stick  was  her  name,  as  the  people, 
North  and  South,  never  would  call  her  by  any  other  name 
than  the  Merrimac.  History,  when  truly  written,  will  also 
tell  how  those  Southern  naval  officers  went  with  their  men 
into  the  forests  with  axes  and  cut  down  trees  and  hewed 
out  timbers  with  which  they  built  gunboats,  and  how  these 
same  men  went  through  the  country  gathering  old  rails  and 
scrap-iron  with  which  they  armored  those  boats  and  called 
them  ironclads;  and  above  all,  how  they  fought  these  make- 
shift men-of-war  after  they  built  them.  It  will  also  tell 
how  the  C.S.S.  Manassas,  an  old  tugboat,  was  converted 
into  an  ironclad  ram  and  was  the  first  craft  of  that  charac- 
ter used  in  war  to  ram  an  enemy.  It  will  also  tell  how  the 
Confederates  were  the  first  to  use  the  torpedo  boat,  the 
submarine  boat,  and  floating  and  stationary  mines  in  actual 
war,  and  how  they  built  and  nearly  finished  the  ironclad 
Mississippi  at  New  Orleans,  certainly  the  first  warship 
with  three  screws  ever  built  in  America. 

After  Norfolk  was  evacuated,  the  South  had  no  navy 
yard.   The  Albemarle  and  Arkansas,  ironclads,  were  built 


1 86   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

in  cornfields,  and  other  formidable  ironclads  were  built 
between  wharves  at  Charleston  and  elsewhere.  For  artil- 
lery they  had  only  obsolete  guns  that  had  been  left  at  the 
Norfolk  navy  yard  at  the  commencement  of  the  war.  Lieu- 
tenant Brook,  C.S.N. ,  made  a  gun  which  was  regarded 
by  both  sides  as  the  most  formidable  weapon  in  use  at  that 
time.  It  was  the  irony  of  fate  that  the  United  States  Gov- 
ernment, which  had  branded  the  Confederate  cruisers  as 
"pirates  on  the  high  seas,"  should  have  built  among  the 
first  ships  of  its  new  navy  (after  the  war)  two  ' '  commerce 
destroyers,"  the  Columbia  and  the  Minneapolis,  ships  of 
great  speed  and  cruising  radius,  and  with  little  or  no  fight- 
ing power. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Paris  —  Alabama  sunk  by  Kearsarge  —  Havre  —  Southampton  —  Ordered 
to  return  to  the  Confederacy  —  Halifax  —  Sail  for  Bermuda  and  passengers 
mistake  us  for  pirates  —  St.  George's,  Bermuda  — ■  Take  passage  in  the  block- 
ade-runner Lillian  —  Chased  by  U.S.S.  Shenandoah  and  have  narrow  escape 
running  through  blockading  fleet  off  Wilmington. 

While  dawdling  in  Paris  in  the  month  of  June,  1864, 
waiting  for  ships  that  were  never  to  materialize,  at  least 
for  our  purposes,  we  were  startled  one  day  by  the  news 
that  the  Alabama  had  arrived  in  the  port  of  Cherbourg, 
and  that  the  U.S.  sloop-of-war  Kearsarge  was  waiting  out- 
side for  her.  We  knew  at  once  that  there  was  going  to  be 
a  fight,  and  so  confident  were  we  that  the  Alabama  would 
win  that  among  ourselves  we  decided  that  the  Kearsarge 
must  not  be  crippled  too  severely,  but  that  the  Alabama 
with  her  superior  speed  was  to  run  alongside  of  her  antag- 
onist and  carry  her  by  boarding,  and  then  turn  her  into  a 
Confederate  cruiser.  So  confident  were  we  that  we  selected 
the  officers  for  the  new  addition  to  our  navy.  But  we  had 
not  taken  into  account  the  fact  that  the  Alabama  had  not 
been  in  a  dry  dock  in  more  than  two  years  and  that  her 
copper  hung  to  her  bottom  in  elbows,  which  greatly  re- 
tarded her  speed.  Well,  the  fight  came  off  and  the  Kear- 
sarge, which  was  not  a  fast  ship,  proved  that  she  could 
run  two  knots  to  the  Alabama's  one,  in  her  then  condition. 
She  took  up  her  own  position  at  a  distance  which  suited 
her  and  the  world  knows  the  result. 

As  soon  as  the  unpalatable  news  of  the  result  of  the 
battle  reached  Paris,  we  were  ordered  to  get  out  of  the  city 
at  once  and  to  scatter.  I  went  to  Havre,  where  I  received 
orders  to  proceed  to  Southampton,  and  report  to  Com- 
mander Kell,  the  former  executive  officer  of  the  Alabama, 
who  would  give  me  further  instructions. 

At  Southampton  I  found,  among  other  officers  who  had 


1 88        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

been  saved  from  a  watery  grave  by  the  English  yacht 
Deerhound  when  the  Alabama  went  down,  Becket  Howell, 
a  brother  of  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis,  who  was  a  lieutenant 
of  marines,  and  Midshipmen  Anderson  and  Maffitt,  and  I 
spent  several  days  with  them  wandering  around  the  curious 
old  English  town,  the  observed  of  all  the  observers,  who 
seemed  to  take  great  delight  in  calling  attention  to  the 
"pirates." 

With  Commander  Kell  I  went  from  Southampton  to 
Liverpool,  where  we  were  joined  by  several  other  officers 
who  were  going  to  make  the  attempt  to  run  the  blockade. 
Among  them  was  Lieutenant  R.  T.  Chapman,  who  had  been 
executive  officer  of  the  Georgia  when  she  was  first  placed 
in  commission.  Mr.  Chapman  was  now  entrusted  with  a 
special  mission  to  take  the  great  seal  of  the  Confederate 
States,  which  had  recently  been  completed  in  London,  to 
Richmond.  Lieutenant  Evans,  who  had  been  the  last  com- 
mander of  the  Georgia,  Lieutenant  Campbell,  who  had  taken 
the  Rappahannock  out  of  the  Thames,  Lieutenants  Ingra- 
ham  and  King,  and  Passed  Midshipman  Walker  were  also 
in  the  party. 

We  took  passage  in  the  Cunarder  Africa  plying  between 
Liverpool  and  Boston,  stopping  at  Halifax,  Nova  Scotia,  on 
her  way.  Naturally  it  was  more  conducive  to  the  health 
and  longevity  of  our  party  to  get  off  at  Halifax.  The  voyage 
was  a  rough  one,  and  the  old  paddlewheel  tub  was  crowded 
with  Yanks  who  scowled  at  us  in  a  very  unfriendly  way. 

As  we  entered  the  harbor  of  Halifax,  Commander  Kell 
said  that,  as  I  had  been  there  before  and  knew  the  town,  I 
must  jump  ashore  the  instant  the  ship  touched  the  dock  and 
run  to  the  hotel  and  engage  rooms  for  the  party.  It  was 
twilight  when  I  reached  the  hostelry,  and  there  was  standing 
behind  the  counter  a  man  in  a  dress  suit  reading  a  letter. 
I  asked  him  whether  or  not  we  could  get  accommodations, 
but  he  took  no  notice  of  me.  I  am  afraid  I  repeated  my 
inquiry  in  rather  a  peremptory  manner,  for  he  turned  and 


Sail  for  Bermuda  189 

left  the  office,  saying  as  he  departed,  "Young  man,  I  am  not 
a  waiter  in  this  establishment!"  At  that  moment  the  clerk 
arrived  with  a  horrified  expression  on  his  face  and  told  me 
that  I  had  made  a  dreadful  mistake,  that  the  gentleman  was 
Mr.  Cyrus  W.  Field  (who  had  laid  the  first  Atlantic  cable) 
and  that  he  was  waiting  for  his  carriage  to  go  to  the  Govern- 
ment House  where  Lord  Mulgrave,  the  governor-general, 
was  giving  a  dinner  in  his  honor  that  evening ! 

After  a  couple  of  days'  stay  in  Halifax  we  took  passage 
on  a  small  British  steamer  called  the  Alpha  which  plied  on 
the  line  between  Halifax,  Bermuda,  and  St.  Thomas,  West 
Indies.  She  was  crowded  with  passengers,  but  they  were 
not  disposed  to  be  friendly  with  us.  Doubtless  they  had 
become  prejudiced  by  reading  about  "pirates"  in  yellow- 
back novels.   We  kept  entirely  to  ourselves. 

In  the  early  mornings  we  would  gather  on  the  little  poop 
deck  and  pass  away  the  time  until  the  gong  sounded  for 
breakfast,  when  we  would  fall  in  behind  Commander  Kell, 
according  to  rank,  and  in  Indian  file  walk  into  the  saloon 
and  take  our  seats.  Commander  Kell  was  a  most  command- 
ing figure,  being  six  feet  three  or  four  inches  in  height.  When 
he  sailed  from  New  Orleans  in  the  Sumter  three  years  pre- 
viously, he  had  determined  to  let  his  beard  grow  until  he 
saw  his  wife  again.  It  now  reached  to  his  waist  and  flowed 
over  his  breast  like  a  waterfall  —  it  was  very  red.  He  al- 
lowed only  his  intimates  to  see  it,  however,  as  he  kept  it 
plaited  and  stuck  down  his  shirt  collar.  Ordinarily  his 
beard  looked  to  be  about  three  inches  long  with  the  ends  all 
turned  in  under  his  chin.  One  morning  we  were  seated  as 
usual  on  the  poop  when  Commander  Kell  produced  from  the 
inner  recesses  of  his  shirt  front  the  wonderful  beard  and 
proceeded  to  comb  it  out.  Before  he  had  finished  the  intri- 
cate operation  the  gong  sounded,  and  with  his  habitual  con- 
sideration for  others,  he  said  that  he  would  not  keep  us 
from  our  breakfasts  while  he  put  up  his  extraordinary  hir- 
sute adornment,  and  he  led  the  way  to  the  saloon  with  his 


190        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

great  red  beard  flowing  over  his  manly  chest.  As  he  entered 
the  door  the  passengers  were  all  seated  at  the  breakfast 
tables,  and  to  our  great  consternation  some  idiot  screamed 
out,  "The  pirates  are  going  to  take  us!"  Then  followed  a 
scene  I  shall  never  forget.  Men  dove  under  the  tables  and 
the  women  fell  on  their  knees  and  begged  for  mercy.  As  for 
us  —  we  were  simply  scared  into  speechlessness.  It  was 
Commander  Kell's  beard  that  had  caused  the  fright  —  the 
passengers  jumping  to  the  conclusion  that  there  were  other 
pirates  secreted  on  the  ship,  and  that  the  time  to  take  her 
and  make  them  walk  the  plank  had  arrived.  The  captain 
of  the  Alpha  rushed  aft  to  find  out  what  had  happened,  and 
even  he  did  not  recognize  Commander  Kell  at  first.  Of 
course  there  was  a  hearty  laugh  when  the  mystery  of  the 
beard  was  explained,  and  we  were  all  much  better  friends 
for  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

At  St.  George,  Bermuda,  our  party  was  divided  and  took 
passage  on  several  of  the  blockade-runners  then  lying  in  the 
harbor.  Lieutenants  Campbell,  Ingraham,  King,  and  my- 
self (the  midshipman)  went  on  board  the  Lillian  commanded 
by  as  big  a  braggart  and  blowhard  as  ever  commanded  a 
ship. 

It  was  in  the  month  of  July,  1864,  and  by  this  time  the 
blockade  of  the  Southern  coast  was  so  complete  that  to  get 
into  a  Southern  port  it  was  necessary  to  elude  the  United 
States  war-vessels  three  separate  times  on  each  trip. 
Around  the  Bermuda  Islands  cruisers  hovered  to  catch 
their  prey  wmen  the  blockade-runner  was  only  a  few  miles 
from  the  neutral  port,  either  coming  or  going.  About  fifty 
miles  off  the  Southern  coast  other  cruisers  awaited  them, 
and  of  course  the  channels  leading  into  the  Southern  har- 
bors were  closely  guarded.  We  passed  out  of  the  narrow  and 
tortuous  channel,  which  connects  the  harbor  of  St.  George 
and  the  sea,  in  daylight,  and  then  lingered  near  the  shore 
until  night  shrouded  our  movements  when  we  started  at 
full  speed  for  Wilmington,  North  Carolina,  and  soon  ran 


The  Blockade-runner  Lillian  191 

into  some  very  foul  weather.  The  Lillian  was  a  very  small 
paddlewheel  steamer  whose  deck  was  not  more  than  three 
or  four  feet  above  the  water  line,  and  she  drew  only  between 
seven  and  eight  feet  of  water.  In  heavy  seas  she  labored  so 
that  she  spent  about  as  much  time  under  the  water  as  she 
did  on  top  of  it  —  reminding  one  of  the  sailor's  commentary 
on  the  verse  of  the  Bible  about  "Those  who  go  down  to  the 
sea  in  ships  see  the  wonders  of  the  Lord":  "That  may  be 
true  about  full-rigged  ships,"  said  the  sailor:  "but  I  can  tell 
the  fellow  who  wrote  it  that  them  as  go  to  sea  in  barks, 
brigs,  schooners,  or  other  small  craft,  they  see  hell!" 

We  floundered  across  the  Gulf  Stream,  and  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  night  we  expected  to  make  our  dash  through  the 
blockading  fleet,  and  while  we  were  still  distant  some  fifty 
miles  from  the  Cape  Fear  River,  a  big,  bark-rigged,  steam 
sloop-of-war,  which  we  afterwards  learned  was  the  U.S.S. 
Shenandoah,  caught  sight  of  us  and  gave  chase. 

The  captain,  when  in  his  cups,  would  swear  by  all  the 
gods  of  the  sea  that  the  little  Lillian  could  run  seventeen 
knots  an  hour,  but  we  were  to  witness  the  phenomenon  of  a 
heavy  man-of-war,  that  could  not  make  more  than  nine  or 
ten  knots  at  most,  gain  rapidly  on  us,  as  our  fool  captain 
persisted  in  steering  a  course  which  permitted  of  the  war- 
ship carrying  all  of  her  immense  spread  of  sail.  Our  captain 
went  below  and  stowed  several  big  drinks  of  brandy  under 
his  vest,  and  then,  coming  on  deck,  in  a  spirit  of  braggadocio, 
hoisted  the  Confederate  flag.  Mr.  Campbell  ordered  us  to 
go  below  and  put  on  our  uniforms  and  side  arms,  as  we 
wished  to  be  captured,  if  captured  we  had  to  be,  as  officers 
of  the  Confederate  Navy. 

Returning  to  the  quarter-deck  we  awaited  developments. 
The  warship  still  steadily  gained.  Within  an  hour  from  the 
time  she  sighted  us  she  fired  a  shot.  We  naval  officers  knew 
that  she  was  only  trying  to  get  the  range,  as  we  saw  the 
projectile  fall  short  several  hundred  yards  from  us,  but  our 
captain  thought  that  was  the  best  she  could  do,  and  with 


192   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

his  habitual  swagger  he  mounted  to  the  little  bridge  which 
reached  from  one  little  paddlebox  to  the  other,  and  from 
that  point  of  vantage  he  looked  down  on  us  and  in  the  most 
dramatic  manner  said,  "I  want  you  naval  officers  to  know 
that  I  am  captain  of  her  as  long  as  a  plank  will  float!"  Just 
then  the  Shenandoah,  having  got  the  range,  sent  a  scream- 
ing rifled  projectile  through  both  paddleboxes,  the  shot  pass- 
ing only  a  foot  or  two  under  the  bridge  on  which  the  captain 
was  standing.  With  a  yell  of  dismay  he  threw  up  his  hands 
and  came  scampering  down  the  ladder,  screaming,  "Haul 
that  flag  down.  I  will  not  have  any  more  lives  sacrificed !" 
Nothing  besides  the  paddleboxes  had  as  yet  been  touched 
unless  we  except  the  captain's  yellow  streak.  Lieutenant 
Campbell  walked  to  the  taffrail,  a  distance  of  some  ten  feet 
from  where  he  had  been  standing,  and  took  up  a  position 
alongside  the  little  flagstaff  from  which  the  Confederate 
colors  were  fluttering.  Laying  his  hand  on  the  flag  halyards 
he  quietly  said:  "  Captain,  if  you  want  to  give  up  this  boat, 
turn  her  over  to  me.  I  will  not  allow  you  to  surrender  her. 
These  officers  are  branded  as  pirates,  and  according  to  Pres- 
ident Lincoln's  proclamation  may  be  hung  if  captured." 
Just  then  the  man-of-war  yawed  and  let  fly  her  whole  broad- 
side, cutting  the  Lillian  up  considerably.  The  captain  looked 
dazed  for  a  moment,  but  was  brought  out  of  his  mental 
stupor  by  a  shot  from  a  rifled  gun  which  grazed  the  top  of 
one  of  the  boilers  letting  the  steam  out  with  a  roar.  The 
engine-room  force  rushed  on  deck  and  gathered  around  us. 
The  captain  bolted  for  the  booby  hatch  leading  down  into 
the  cabin,  stopping  only  long  enough  to  say:  "I  told  the 
agent  in  Bermuda  how  it  would  be  if  he  forced  me  to  take  a 
lot  of  pirates  on  board.  If  you  are  going  to  take  my  ship 
away  from  me,  take  her!"  —  and  disappeared  below.  Mr. 
Campbell,  as  cool  as  though  nothing  extraordinary  was 
taking  place,  turned  to  us  and  said,  "Kill  the  first  man 
who  touches  those  flag  halyards." 

The  chief  engineer,  a  game  little  fellow,  informed  Mr. 


Chased  by  U.S.S.  Shenandoah  193 

Campbell  that  the  boilers  could  be  disconnected  from  each 
other,  a  precaution  against  just  such  an  accident  as  had 
happened,  and  that  the  boat,  with  the  immense  pressure  of 
steam  she  was  carrying,  would  run  until  the  steam  from 
the  injured  boiler  cooled  off  sufficiently  to  allow  the  stokers 
to  return  to  their  duties.  He  added  that  he  had  been  a 
prisoner  once  in  Fort  Lafayette  and  had  no  desire  to  return 
there.   The  crew  gallantly  cheered  his  remarks. 

All  this  time  the  Shenandoah  was  yawing  first  to  star- 
board and  then  to  port,  apparently  so  certain  that  she  had 
us  that  she  was  amusing  her  crew  at  target  practice.  Mr. 
Campbell  went  into  the  pilot  house  and  took  command 
of  the  Lillian.  The  first  order  he  gave  changed  our  course 
so  that  the  man-of-war  had  to  take  in  her  sails,  and  after 
that  we  appeared  to  be  holding  our  own  in  the  contest  of 
speed.  Shots  continued  to  fly  over  and  around  us,  occa- 
sionally one  striking  the  frail  sides  causing  the  splinters  to 
fly  as  it  passed  through.  The  shells  were  bursting  and  their 
fragments  whistling  all  around  us.  We  were  dripping  wet 
from  the  spray  thrown  up  by  projectiles  which  hit  the 
water  alongside.  In  the  midst  of  it  all  Mr.  Campbell 
ordered  me  to  go  down  into  the  cabin  and  report  to  him 
what  the  captain  was  doing.  I  reported:  "Captain  in  his 
berth  dead  drunk  with  an  empty  bottle  of  brandy  beside 
him." 

All  this  time  Lieutenant  Campbell  was  edging  the  Lil- 
lian in  toward  the  land  which  we  sighted  between  sundown 
and  dark,  and  how  we  did  pray  that  night  would  come 
soon.  With  our  light  draft  we  continued  the  "edging-in" 
maneuvre  until  the  heavy  man-of-war,  drawing  some 
eighteen  or  twenty  feet  of  water,  had  to  change  her  course 
for  fear  of  striking  the  bottom.  She  hauled  to  the  south- 
ward with  the  object  of  heading  us  off  from  Wilmington, 
from  which  port  we  were  far  to  the  northward  by  this 
time.  We  had  to  change  our  course  to  the  southward, 
giving  the  broadside  of  the  Shenandoah  a  fine  target  as 


194   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

we  steamed  in  parallel  lines  down  the  coast,  the  Lillian 
being  so  close  into  the  beach  that  she  was  rolling  on  the 
curlers  of  the  outer  line  of  surf.  Night  at  last  came  to  our 
relief,  —  or  at  least  we  thought  it  did,  —  when  to  our 
amazement  two  columns  of  flame  about  thirty  feet  high 
shot  up  out  of  our  little  smokestacks!  This  gave  the  war- 
ship a  fine  target  to  exercise  her  crew  in  night  practice, 
of  which  she  at  once  took  advantage.  Our  engineer  ex- 
plained that  to  get  more  steam  he  had  caused  half  a  dozen 
bottles  of  turpentine  to  be  thrown  into  the  furnaces.  The 
beacon  soon  expended  its  energy,  however,  and  without 
further  molestation  we  continued  on  our  way  to  Wilming- 
ton. 

We  had  hopes  of  reaching  the  bar  before  daylight,  and 
thus  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  blockading  fleet,  but  luck 
and  the  speed  of  the  Lillian  were  against  us.  Day  broke 
when  we  were  still  a  couple  of  miles  away  and  the  fleet  at 
once  saw  us  and  opened  fire.  We  had  no  choice  but  to  go 
on,  as  the  last  few  shovelfuls  of  coal  on  board  were  then 
being  tossed  into  the  furnaces.  Fortunately  none  of  the 
shots  touched  our  remaining  boiler  or  machinery.  There 
was  one  small  gunboat  right  in  our  path,  inside  of  the  bar, 
and  very  close  to  Fort  Fisher.  The  people  in  the  fort  and 
on  the  gunboat  must  have  been  asleep.  Lieutenant  Camp- 
bell ordered  the  man  at  the  wheel  to  steer  for  her,  saying 
that  she  was  so  near  the  fort  that  she  would  not  dare  fire, 
as  Fort  Fisher  would  blow  her  out  of  the  water  if  she  did. 
He  was  right  —  for  when  she  saw  us  coming  she  slipped 
her  cable  and  scampered  off  without  firing  a  shot,  and  a 
few  minutes  afterwards  we  dropped  our  anchor  in  safety 
under  the  sheltering  guns  of  the  famous  fortress. 

The  rattling  of  the  chain  cable,  when  the  anchor  was 
dropped,  had  awakened  our  captain  from  his  drunken 
sleep,  and  he  shortly  appeared  on  deck  looking  very  sheep- 
ish, but  the  arrival  of  several  officers  from  the  fort  soon 
caused  him  to  resume  his  swaggering  air.    Resuming  his 


Running  the  Blockade  195 

role  as  captain  he  received  them  at  the  gangway,  and  the 
first  one  who  stepped  on  to  the  deck  seized  his  hand  and 
exclaimed,  "Well  done,  captain!  that  was  the  most  daring 
dash  through  the  blockade  we  have  yet  witnessed!"  The 
captain  modestly  replied,  "Oh,  it  is  nothing;  we  have  to 
take  some  chances  in  our  business,  you  know!"  And  Lieu- 
tenant Campbell,  standing  a  few  feet  away,  never  said  a 
word. 

The  captain  invited  the  army  officers  (but  none  of  us) 
into  his  cabin  and  opened  champagne.  Champagne  at  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning  had  no  terrors  for  a  Confederate 
soldier.  This  same  captain,  after  the  damages  to  the  Lil- 
lian had  been  repaired  at  Wilmington,  loaded  her  with 
cotton,  and  started  out  again.  He  stopped  and  surrendered 
her  when  the  first  shot  was  fired  and  before  any  damage 
had  been  done.  From  a  blockade-runner  the  Lillian  was 
converted  into  a  United  States  blockader. 

As  the  Lillian  was  being  made  fast  to  the  wharf  at  Wil- 
mington, two  men  on  the  wharf  became  involved  in  a  diffi- 
culty and,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  country,  drew 
their  revolvers  and  began  to  shoot.  One  of  them  fell  and 
floundered  around  on  the  planks  like  a  chicken  with  its 
neck  half  wrung.  Lieutenant  Campbell  patriotically  ex- 
claimed, " My  own,  my  native  land!  Now  I  am  sure  that  I 
am  home  again!" 

In  his  report  to  the  Navy  Department  concerning  the 
chase  of  the  Lillian,  Captain  Ridgely,  U.S.N.,  command- 
ing the  Shenandoah, says:  — 

Sir:  — 

At  4  p.m.  made  another  blockade-runner  in  latitude  36.34. 
N.,  Longitude  76.33.  W.,  steering  to  the  northward  and  west- 
ward. We  made  chase  and  overhauled  her  quite  fast.  She  only 
escaped  by  darkness  and  running  into  shoal  water.  We  fired  140 
shots  at  her,  and  I  think  some  of  them  took  effect.  He  was  a  bold 
blockade-runner  and  flew  the  rebel  flag  as  long  as  we  could  see 
him.  .  .  .* 

1  See  Rebellion  Records,  vol.  10. 


196        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Abstract  of  log  of  U.S.S.  Shenandoah:  — 

Saturday,  July  30th,  1864  —  At  3.45  p.m.  sighted  a  steamer 
burning  black  smoke  to  the  eastward ;  made  all  sail  in  chase.  At 
4.30  p.m.  made  stranger  out  to  be  a  double  smokestack,  side- 
wheel  steamer,  apparently  a  blockade-runner,  standing  to  the 
northward  and  westward.  At  5.45,  he  showed  rebel  colors.  Called 
the  first  division  and  powder  division  to  quarters  and  began  to 
fire  at  her  with  the  30  and  150  pounder  rifled  Parrott.  At  6  p.m. 
beat  to  quarters  and  fired  all  the  divisions.  At  7  p.m.  took  in  fore- 
topgallantsail  and  foresail.   At  7.30  took  in  foretopsail. 

During  the  chase  fired  70  rounds  from  30  pounder  Parrott, 
53  rounds  from  150  pounder  Parrott,  18  rounds  from  XI  inch 
guns,  and  one  round  from  24  pounder  howitzer.  .  .  .  1 

After  his  capture  the  captain  of  the  Lillian  in  answer  to 
the  questions  of  the  examining  officer  gave  the  following 
version  of  the  chase :  — 

My  name  is  Daniel  Martin,  a  native  of  Liverpool,  England. 
Was  three  weeks  at  Wilmington  repairing  boiler  injured  in  chase. 
The  Confederate  colors  were  hoisted  by  some  of  the  passen- 
gers. .  .  .2 

1  See  Naval  War  Records.  2  See  Naval  War  Records. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Shells  dropping  in  the  grass-grown  streets  of  Charleston,  South  Carolina 
—  Mr.  Trenholm  is  Secretary  of  the  Confederate  Treasury  —  Columbia  —  Mr. 
Trenholm's  beautiful  villa  —  Go  to  Richmond  and  ask  the  millionaire  Secre- 
tary for  the  hand  of  his  daughter  —  Mrs.  Trenholm  calls  on  Mrs.  (?)  Stephens. 

At  Wilmington  I  went  to  a  wretched  little  cottage  which 
sheltered  several  naval  officers  who  were  stationed  in  the 
town.  I  thought  our  condition  in  the  Confederacy  was 
bad  enough  when  I  had  left  its  shores  two  years  before, 
but  these  officers  had  literally  nothing  in  the  way  of  cloth- 
ing besides  their  shabby  uniforms,  threadbare  and  patched. 
I  felt  ashamed  of  my  new  uniform,  made  by  a  fashionable 
London  tailor,  and  my  well-laundered  white  shirt,  so  I 
moved  my  trunk  into  the  centre  of  the  room  and  insisted 
on  a  divide  of  its  contents.  I  had  just  come  from  a  land  of 
plenty  and  I  had  come  in  an  empty  ship,  and  these  brave 
fellows  were  suffering  for  the  simplest  necessities.  The  for- 
eign owners  of  blockade-runners  no  longer  brought  cloth- 
ing or  provisions  into  the  stricken  country,  as  they  had 
found  it  more  profitable  to  bring  only  a  little  gold  with 
which  they  could  buy  all  the  depreciated  Confederate  cur- 
rency they  wanted  to  buy  cotton  with.  Only  the  boats 
engaged  in  the  risky  business  which  belonged  to  the  Con- 
federate Government,  and  those  belonging  to  Fraser, 
Trenholm  &  Co.  and  one  or  two  other  Southerners,  ever 
brought  cargoes  into  the  blockaded  ports  any  more.  The 
foreigner  wanted  cotton,  and  if  he  could  get  that  for  his 
gold  the  sufferings  of  our  people  did  not  interest  him.  I 
never  could  understand  why  President  Davis  never  issued 
a  proclamation  forbidding  an  empty  blockade-runner  en- 
tering our  ports. 

I  had  been  only  a  few  hours  in  Wilmington  when  I  re- 
ceived the  usual  order  in  such  cases,  to  proceed  to  my 
home,  notify  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  as  to  my  address, 


198   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  to  there  await  orders.  I  had  no  home  —  so  I  deter- 
mined to  go  to  Charleston  and  notify  the  Secretary  from 
there.  Arriving  in  Charleston  I  stepped  on  to  the  platform 
and  boldly  asked  for  a  cab.  My  modest  request  was  greeted 
with  laughter  by  the  few  loafers  who  were  there  assembled. 
If  the  negro  cabmen  had  not  gone  to  the  front,  their  horses 
had.  Knowing  my  way,  however,  I  left  my  baggage  at  the 
station  and  started  on  the  long  walk  to  Mr.  Trenholm's 
office  which  was  located  on  one  of  the  wharves.  I  soon 
found  myself  in  the  deserted  part  of  the  city  where  the 
shells  were  falling.  I  passed  through  King  Street  to  Went- 
worth  and  followed  the  latter  street  to  Meeting.  Ruin 
was  on  every  side  of  me :  the  grass  in  the  street  was  above 
my  knees ;  not  a  human  being  was  to  be  seen.  I  turned  into 
the  battered  public  market  to  take  advantage  of  the  shade 
afforded  by  the  roofs  of  its  dilapidated  sheds  and  because 
no  grass  was  growing  under  them  —  not  even  a  turkey 
buzzard  disputed  my  right  of  way,  as  they  were  in  the 
habit  of  doing  before  and  after  the  war,  in  that  particular 
locality.  My  surroundings  were  not  cheerful  and  my 
gloomy  thoughts  were  not  dispelled  by  the  bursting  of  a 
shell  from  the  historic  "Swamp  Angel"  and  the  whirring 
of  its  fragments  which  passed  unpleasantly  close  to  me. 

Arriving  at  the  wharves,  to  my  surprise  I  found  a  battery 
erected  within  a  few  feet  of  the  entrance  to  what  once  had 
been  Mr.  Trenholm's  counting-house.  As  I  approached,  a 
sentry  appeared  suddenly  from  out  of  the  ground  and  per- 
emptorily ordered  me  to  halt.  I  naively  told  him  I  wanted 
to  see  Mr.  Trenholm,  which  information  seemed  to  arouse 
his  suspicions,  and  he  called  for  the  corporal  of  the  guard, 
who  informed  me  that  he  had  never  heard  of  Mr.  Tren- 
holm. .  But  as  I  had  some  official  documents  in  my  pocket 
I  very  soon  convinced  him  that  I  was  harmless  and  he  al- 
lowed me  to  retire.  I  passed  up  East  Bay  Street  to  Broad 
and  saw  the  old  City  Hall  (used  as  a  post-office).  It  was 
riddled  by  shells.    It  was  from  the  porch  of  this  building 


Secretary  of  the  Treasury  Trenholm     199 

that  Washington  had  addressed  the  people  of  Charleston 
when  he  visited  that  city.  At  the  corner  of  Broad  and 
Meeting  Streets  I  passed  by  the  old  colonial  church  "St. 
Michael's,"  the  rear  wall  of  which  had  been  smashed  in 
and  great  holes  were  to  be  seen  in  the  standing  walls,  which 
had  been  and  were  still  being  bombarded.  About  every 
ten  minutes  a  shell  was  bursting  some  place  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. I  passed  on  through  the  burned  district,  going 
uptown,  and  again  found  myself  in  the  inhabited  portion 
of  the  city.  Many  Charlestonians  who  had  taken  refuge 
in  the  upper  part  of  the  city,  so  as  to  be  out  of  range  of  the 
shells,  when  the  bombardment  first  began,  returned  to 
their  residences  near  the  battery  when  longer-range  guns 
began  to  disturb  them  uptown,  and  in  comparative  com- 
fort let  the  enemy  shoot  over  their  heads.  In  war  times 
one  can  get  accustomed  to  anything.  At  last  I  met  a  civil- 
ian who  was  very  civil  and  gave  me  the  information  I 
wanted.  He  told  me  that  Mr.  Trenholm  was  no  longer  in 
Charleston,  but  was  now  Secretary  of  the  Confederate 
Treasury  and  had  gone  to  Richmond;  but  that  he  could 
show  me  where  I  would  find  his  brother-in-law  and  partner, 
Mr.  Theodore  Wagner,  and  that  the  business  office  was 
in  a  residence  on  Rutledge  Avenue.  When  I  found  Mr. 
Wagner  he  was  very  kind  to  me,  but  he  seemed  to  be  in 
an  awful  hurry,  and  hustled  me  into  a  buggy,  saying  it 
was  the  only  vehicle  of  the  kind  in  the  city.  I  asked  where 
we  were  going,  and  after  we  started  he  told  me  we  were 
going  to  the  railway  station  as  fast  as  possible,  as  I  barely 
had  time  to  catch  the  train;  that  Mr.  Trenholm  had  in- 
structed him  to  send  me  at  once  to  his  home  in  the  suburbs 
of  Columbia,  if  I  got  through  the  blockade  safely. 

I  had  brought  a  trunk  with  me  that  Midshipman  Ander- 
son had  asked  me  to  forward  to  his  family  in  Savannah,  and 
Mr.  Wagner  kindly  attended  to  the  matter  for  me.  I  was 
afterwards  informed  that  when  Anderson's  family  received 
it,  and  an  accompanying  letter,  they  had  been  mourning 


200        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

for  him  for  some  weeks.  It  happened  that  in  the  fight  with 
the  Kearsarge  a  man  on  the  deck  of  the  Alabama  was  cut 
completely  in  two  by  a  shell,  and  the  upper  half  of  his  body 
was  hurled  through  the  air  striking  Anderson  on  the  head. 
Some  of  the  crew  of  the  Alabama,  who  were  saved  by  either 
the  Kearsarge  or  the  French  pilot  boat,  had  reported  that 
Midshipman  Anderson  had  had  his  head  blown  off,  and  this 
story  reached  the  Confederacy  before  I  did. 

It  took  me  fifteen  hours  to  reach  Columbia,  as  trains  in 
the  Confederacy  were  not  allowed  to  run  faster  than  ten 
miles  an  hour  and  rarely  attempted  a  disobedience  of  the 
law  where  the  speed  limit  was  concerned,  and  their  inter- 
minable waits  on  the  sidings  were  enough  to  try  the  patience 
of  a  saint,  to  say  nothing  of  that  of  a  midshipman. 

Arriving  at  Columbia  I  was  met  at  the  station  by  Colonel 
Trenholm,  his  beautiful  young  wife,  and  his  sister,  the  young 
lady  I  had  two  years  previously  presumptuously  made  up  my 
mind  to  marry.  Colonel  Trenholm  apologized  for  not  alight- 
ing to  meet  me  when  the  train  arrived,  giving  as  an  excuse 
the  fact  that  he  could  not  walk,  as  he  had  been  shot  through 
the  hips  in  one  of  the  battles  near  Richmond.  I  was  invited 
to  get  into  the  handsomely  appointed  landau  (the  Govern- 
ment had  not  seized  Mr.  Trenholm's  horses,  I  suppose  be- 
cause he  was  a  member  of  the  Cabinet),  and  we  drove  to  a 
beautiful  villa,  situated  a  short  distance  outside  of  the  city 
limits,  where  I  was  most  hospitably  welcomed  by  the  rest 
of  the  family. 

uDe  Grefiin"  was  the  name  of  the  villa,  and  besides  a 
most  lovable  and  happy  family  it  contained  many  paintings 
and  objects  of  art.  In  front  of  the  house  was  a  garden  some 
half-acre  in  extent  enclosed  by  a  handsome  balustrade,  and 
at  each  corner  was  a  vine-clad  summer  house.  Flowers  were 
blooming  in  profusion  in  the  garden  and  on  a  succession  of 
terraces  which  reached  down  to  a  little  stream.  As  Mr. 
Trenholm  was  one  of  the  largest  owners  of  blockade- 
runners,  of  course  the  house  was  provided  with  every  luxury 


My  Mission  to  Richmond  201 

and  a  most  lavish  hospitality  was  dispensed.  A  continual 
stream  of  guests  constantly  came  and  went,  and  the  young 
people  gathered  there  in  flocks.  Of  course  we  danced,  — 
Southerners  in  that  day  always  danced  when  two  or  three 
were  gathered  together,  —  if  only  three,  one  would  play 
the  piano  and  the  other  two  would  dance.  When  we  tired 
of  dancing  there  were  always  the  terraces  and  the  moonlight, 
and  the  grand  old  trees  under  which  we  could  stroll  or  sit 
and  rest.  There  were  saddle  horses  to  ride  in  the  mornings 
and  carriages  to  take  us  driving  in  the  afternoons,  and  the 
numerous  servants  who  wanted  to  wait  on  us  were  in  one 
another's  way.  After  a  blissful  week  of  this  life  I  decided 
that  I  had  to  go  to  Richmond.  But  one  other  person  knew 
the  nature  of  the  business  which  called  me  there,  but  the 
incidents  attending  my  mission  were  so  characteristic  of 
the  manner  in  which  a  midshipman  of  that  day  would  act 
in  a  serious  matter  that  I  must  tell  the  story. 

It  took  three  or  four  days  to  go  from  Columbia  to  Rich- 
mond, the  exact  time  not  being  important  so  far  as  the  rail- 
way officials  were  concerned.  Mr.  Trenholm  was  staying  at 
the  house  of  some  friends  while  waiting  until  his  own  house 
should  be  prepared  for  the  reception  of  his  family.  I  arrived 
in  Richmond  after  dark  and  went  at  once  to  the  address 
which  had  been  given  me.  I  had  grown  nine  inches  since 
I  had  last  seen  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  I  feared  he  would  not 
recognize  me.  Arriving  at  the  house  I  found  several  ladies 
and  gentlemen  seated  on  the  piazza.  I  asked  for  Mr.  Tren- 
holm, and  a  tall,  stately  gentleman  arose  and  came  forward 
to  greet  me.  I  said  that  I  was  afraid  he  did  not  remember 
me,  but  he  assured  me  in  his  hearty  manner  that  he  recol- 
lected me  perfectly,  and  asked  me  to  be  seated.  I  thanked 
him  and  told  him  that  I  wanted  to  speak  with  him  very 
particularly  in  private,  and  he  showed  the  way  into  the 
drawing-room  (where  we  were  alone)  and  then  he  asked 
what  he  could  do  for  me.  I  promptly  replied  that  I  had  come 
to  ask  his  consent  to  my  marriage  with  his  daughter,  Miss 


202   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Helen.  Mr. Trenholm  seemed  startled,  and  exclaimed,  "My 
dear  young  gentleman,  I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  who  you 
are!"  When  I  told  him  my  name,  he  said  that  it  was  diffi- 
cult for  him  to  realize  that  I  was  "Little"  Morgan,  as  I  had 
grown  so  much.  An  amused  expression  passed  over  his 
countenance,  which  embarrassed  me,  for  I  was  in  deadly 
earnest  and  did  not  see  anything  funny  in  the  interview 
then.  It  had  never  occurred  to  me  that  others  would  have 
smiled  at  the  idea  of  a  penniless  little  rebel  "reefer"  asking 
the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  the  man  who  owned  steam- 
ships, railroads,  hotels,  city  houses,  cotton  presses,  wharves, 
plantations,  and  thousands  of  slaves,  for  the  hand  of  his 
daughter!  Mr.  Trenholm  was  a  most  kindly  and  sympa- 
thetic gentleman,  and  seeing  my  embarrassment,  at  once 
proceeded  to  treat  my  proposition  seriously.  He  first  asked 
me  if  I  did  not  think  his  daughter  and  myself  both  very 
young  to  enter  into  such  a  serious  engagement;  but  I  nipped 
that  objection  in  the  bud  by  saying  that  I  might  be  killed 
before  the  end  of  the  war,  and  asking  him  where  I  would 
be  then.  He  frankly  admitted  that  he  did  not  know.  With 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye  he  asked  me  what  the  pay  of  a  midship- 
man was.  I  told  him  that  just  at  that  time  it  wTas  forty 
dollars  a  month,  but  that  as  soon  as  I  received  my  orders 
to  a  ship  it  would  be  forty-five  (Confederate  money  was  then 
at  a  discount  of  a  hundred  for  one).  After  a  pause  he  told 
me  that  his  daughter's  choice  would  be  his.  I  think  he  was 
going  to  say  something  else,  but  I  jumped  to  my  feet  and 
interrupted  him  by  saying,  "Good;bye."  He  asked  where  I 
was  going,  and  I  told  him  I  had  just  time  to  catch  the  train 
for  Columbia,  and  dashed  out  of  the  house. 

When  I  arrived  at  "De  Greffin"  with  my  good  news,  I 
was  welcomed  and  ever  afterwards  treated  as  one  of  the 
family.  But  my  stay  in  that  delightful  atmosphere  was  of 
short  duration,  as  a  few  days  after  my  arrival  I  escorted 
Mrs.  Trenholm  and  her  daughters  to  Richmond,  where  they 
were  to  make  their  home  for  an  indefinite  period. 


Vice-President  Stephens  203 

On  arriving  in  Richmond,  of  course,  it  was  incumbent  on 
Mrs.  Trenholm  to  call  on  the  wife  of  the  President  and  the 
ladies  of  the  Cabinet,  and  one  ofd  her  calls  afforded  us  in- 
tense amusement.  Mrs.  Trenholm  had  not  met  any  of  these 
ladies  previously  and  knew  nothing  of  the  domestic  affairs 
of  the  members  of  the  social  circle  of  which  she  was  now  to 
be  a  member.  After  calling  on  Mrs.  Davis  she  thought  it 
proper  to  call  at  the  residence  of  the  Vice-President,  the 
Honorable  Alexander  Stephens.  She  rang  the  bell  and  the 
door  was  opened  by  Mr.  Stephens's  old  negro  body-servant, 
who  had  been  with  his  master  for  many  years  and  who 
accompanied  him  everywhere.  Mrs.  Trenholm  asked  the 
old  darky  if  Mrs.  Stephens  was  at  home,  and  the  old  fel- 
low's eyes  fairly  bulged  out  of  his  head.  "Mara,"  he  said, 
"Mr.  Stephens  ain't  married.  My  God!  did  you  ever  see 
him?"  Needless  to  add  that  Mr.  Stephens  was  far  from  be- 
ing a  handsome  man  —  he  was  very  diminutive  in  size  and 
it  seemed  marvelous  that  so  frail  a  little  body  could  bear 
the  weight  of  so  gigantic  an  intellect.  Besides,  he  had 
always  been  an  invalid  and  looked  like  an  animated  corpse. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

"Pride  goeth  before  a  fall"  —  Humiliated  and  sent  to  school  —  A  realistic 
war  college  —  Call  a  commander  "My  man,"  and  order  him  forward  — 
Assault  on  Fort  Harrison  —  General  Lee  appears  on  the  battle-field  —  Re- 
pulsed —  I  prove  to  be  something  of  a  sprinter. 

"  Pride  goeth  before  a  fall."  I  fear  that  the  dignity  of 
being  an  engaged  man  caused  my  chest  to  enlarge  dispro- 
portionately to  my  rank.  I  received  my  orders,  and  instead 
of  being  sent  to  an  ironclad  I  was  ordered  to  report  on  board 
of  the  schoolship  Patrick  Henry  to  be  examined  for  promo- 
tion. Most  of  my  classmates  had  been  nominally  taken  out 
of  active  service  and  put  to  school  while  I  was  at  sea,  and 
they  were  now  passed  midshipmen.  I  had  not  opened  a 
schoolbook  since  I  had  left  Annapolis,  and  the  result  was 
that  I  failed  to  pass.  But  I  was  given  another  chance  and 
had  to  begin  school  again.  Although  I  did  not  know  it,  if 
there  was  one  thing  that  I  needed  more  than  anything  else, 
it  was  a  little  schooling. 

The  Patrick  Henry  was  a  small  sidewheel  seagoing  steamer 
with  a  walking-beam  engine  and  a  brigantine  rig.  She  had 
formerly  belonged  to  the  "Old  Dominion"  line  running 
between  New  York  and  Norfolk.  She  had  been  converted 
into  a  man-of-war  by  having  ten  guns  put  on  board  of  her 
and  she  had  played  quite  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  naval 
battles  in  Hampton  Roads.  She  had  now  become  the  most 
realistic  war  college  that  ever  existed.  She  was  anchored  in 
front  of  Drewry's  Bluff,  Richmond's  principal  defense  on 
the  James  River,  which  is  situated  seven  miles  below  the 
city.  The  reason  for  her  being  located  there  was  that  the 
"  school"  was  expected  to  sink  itself  in  the  channel  between 
the  obstructions  in  case  the  enemy's  ironclads  tried  to  force 
a  passage  by  the  land  batteries.  One  always  associates  a 
collegiate  institution  with  peace  and  quiet,  but  this  naval 
college  was  located  in  the  midst  of  the  booming  guns.  Below 


X 

<  i 

<  * 


A  Realistic  War  College  205 

Drewry's  Bluff,  on  the  south  side  of  the  river,  were  the  naval 
land  batteries  of  Wood,  Brooke,  Semmes,  and  Howlett,  and 
on  the  other  side  of  the  river  were  the  Federal  batteries  of 
Bohler,  Signal  Hill,  Crow's  Nest,  and  the  Dutch  Gap  bat- 
teries; and  when  they  all  broke  loose  together  the  din  they 
made  was  not  conducive  to  that  peaceful  repose  so  prized 
by  all  students. 

There  were  about  sixty  young  midshipmen  on  the 
Patrick  Henry,  varying  in  age  from  fourteen  to  seventeen. 
Their  jackets  were  made  out  of  very  coarse  gray  cloth  and 
the  food  they  had  to  eat  was,  at  first,  revolting  to  me.  The 
menu  offered  little  variety.  If  it  was  not  a  tiny  lump  of  fat 
pork,  it  was  a  shaving  of  fresh  meat  as  tough  as  the  hide 
which  had  once  covered  it,  with  a  piece  of  hardtack  and  a 
tin  cup  of  hot  water  colored  by  chicory  or  grains  of  burned 
corn,  ground  up,  and  brevetted  coffee.  But  no  one  kicked 
about  the  food,  as  it  was  as  good  if  not  better  than  that  the 
poor  soldiers  in  the  trenches  received.  The  James  River 
furnished  a  capital  article  of  chills  and  fever  —  not  malaria, 
but  the  good  old-fashioned  kind  with  the  shivers  which 
made  the  teeth  chatter  and  burning  fever  to  follow.  On  an 
average  about  one  half  of  the  midshipmen  went  through 
this  disagreeable  experience  every  other  day.  No  one  was 
allowed  to  go  on  the  sick-list  on  account  of  chills  and  fever; 
one  was,  however,  allowed  to  lie  down  on  the  bare  deck 
while  the  chill  was  on,  but  had  to  return  to  duty  as  soon  as 
the  paroxysm  was  over. 

Lieutenant  William  H.  Parker,  who  had  been  a  professor 
of  seamanship  at  Annapolis,  was  the  superintendent  of  this 
extraordinary  naval  academy,  and  he  was  assisted  by  two 
or  three  navy  lieutenants  and  a  like  number  of  civilian  pro- 
fessors. There  were  on  the  hurricane  deck  and  between  the 
paddleboxes  two  little  recitation  rooms,  and  on  top  of  these 
rooms  were  posted  signalmen  who  from  daylight  to  dark 
wigwagged  to,  and  received  messages  from,  the  batteries. 
The  scenes  in  the  recitation  rooms  were  frequently  exciting 


206   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  interesting.  The  guns  on  shore  roared  and  the  shells 
burst,  and  the  professor  would  placidly  give  out  the  problem 
to  the  youngster  at  the  blackboard,  to  be  interrupted  by 
the  report  of  some  gun  which  his  practiced  ear  told  him  was 
a  newcomer  in  the  fray.  He  would  begin  by  saying:  "If 
x—y  —  One  moment,  Mr.  Blank.  Would  you  kindly  step 
outside  and  find  out  for  me  which  battery  it  is  that  has 
opened  with  that  Brooke  gun?"  The  information  obtained 
the  recitation  would  be  resumed,  only  to  be  again  inter- 
rupted by  a  message  from  the  captain  that  a  certain  bat- 
tery was  short  of  officers  and  a  couple  of  midshipmen  were 
wanted.  It  was  useless  to  call  for  volunteers,  as  every  mid- 
shipman clamored  for  permission  to  go:  so  these  details 
were  given  as  rewards.  It  was  from  among  these  midship- 
men that  the  men  came  who  steered  the  boats  when  the 
gunboat  Underwriter  was  boarded  and  captured  in  the 
night,  and  it  was  in  that  fight  that  Midshipman  Palmer 
Saunders  had  his  head  cloven  to  his  shoulders  by  a  cutlass 
in  the  hand  of  a  big  sailor.  Saunders  was  only  seventeen 
years  of  age.  It  was  in  that  same  boarding  expedition  that 
Dan  Lee,  another  midshipman  from  the  Patrick  Henry, 
called  out  to  his  would-be  rescuer,  when  a  sailor  had  him 
down  and  was  trying  to  kill  him,  not  to  shoot,  as  the  man 
on  top  of  him  was  so  thin  !  Lee  and  Saunders  were  of  the 
same  age.  This  Patrick  Henry  may  have  been  a  unique 
institution  of  learning,  but  the  "Confederate  States  Naval 
Academy"  turned  out  men  who  afterwards  became  United 
States  Senators,  members  of  Congress,  judges,  successful 
and  prominent  lawyers,  doctors,  civil  engineers,  bankers, 
and  successful  business  men  as  well  as  sailors. 

The  Patrick  Henry,  besides  being  a  naval  academy  and 
stopgap  for  the  river  obstructions,  also  served  as  a  receiv- 
ing ship.  Steamboats  under  flags  of  truce,  carrying  North- 
ern prisoners  to  Harrison's  Landing  for  exchange,  had  to 
stop  alongside  of  her  to  get  permits  to  continue  their  trips, 
and  returning  frequently  discharged  their  human  freight 


I  call  a  Commander  "My  Man"!         207 

of  Confederate  prisoners  on  board  the  school  ship  while 
they  went  again  down  the  river  for  more.  One  day,  while 
I  was  assisting  the  officer  of  the  deck  in  receiving  these 
poor,  forlorn  fellows,  I  was  trying  to  hurry  them  forward 
so  that  they  would  not  block  the  gangway;  this  was  neces- 
sary, as  with  few  exceptions  they  were  so  glad  to  be  once 
more  under  their  beloved  Confederate  flag  that  those  who 
did  not  succeed  in  embracing  the  officer  of  the  deck  at  least 
wanted  to  swap  congratulations  with  the  gray-coated  mid- 
shipman. I  was  continually  interrupting  them  by  begging 
them  not  to  block  the  gangway,  but  to  pass  forward,  and 
that  I  would  attend  to  their  wants  as  soon  as  the  rest  could 
come  aboard,  etc.  Suddenly  the  shabbiest,  the  raggedest, 
and  most  unkempt  of  the  lot,  with  his  matted  hair  reach- 
ing to  his  shoulders  and  looking  as  though  it  had  never 
known  the  caress  of  a  comb,  shambled  across  the  gang- 
plank, and  in  rather  a  peremptory  manner  demanded  the 
name  of  my  captain.  I  replied  with  the  usual  advice,  "Go 
forward,  my  man;  go  forward!"  —  when  to  my  amaze- 
ment the  human  wreck  drew  himself  up  and  rather  sternly 
said,  "Little  Morgan,  I  will  apply  for  you  as  soon  as  I  get 
a  command  and  I  will  then  show  you,  sir,  who  goes  for- 
ward!" The  man  was  Commander  Beverly  Kennon,  who 
had  rammed  and  sunk  the  U.S.  sloop-of-war  Varuna  when 
Farragut  passed  the  forts  below  New  Orleans.  I  thought 
I  should  faint  when  I  became  aware  of  his  identity.  Here 
was  I,  a  poor  devil  of  a  midshipman,  ordering  forward  a 
man  who  ranked  me  so  far  that  I  would  hardly  be  able 
to  see  where  he  passed  along!  It  was  not  fair.  Kennon 
was  last  seen  by  his  compatriots  in  the  fight  at  the  forts 
standing  on  the  paddlebox  of  his  ship  while  the  Hartford, 
Brooklyn,  and  the  frigate  Mississippi,  with  their  tremen- 
dous broadsides,  were  shooing  him  ashore,  when  sud- 
denly they  blew  him  up,  set  lire  to  him,  and  sunk  him 
almost  simultaneously.  By  all  the  rules  of  the  game  he  was 
a  dead  man,  and  had  no  right  to  come  back  and  scare  a 


208   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

poor  innocent  midshipman  out  of  several  years'  growth. 
Several  years  afterwards  Kennon  served  in  the  Egyptian 
Army  where  he  was  a  full  colonel  and  I  was  again  his 
junior.  He  seemed  to  take  a  delight  in  telling  his  brother 
officers  how,  as  he  described  it,  he  had  once  been  "ordered 
forward  by  a  d d  midshipman!" 

From  the  Patrick  Henry  we  could  see  the  constant  move- 
ment of  troops,  both  Union  and  Confederate,  on  the  north 
side  of  the  river,  where  they  frequently  clashed  in  skir- 
mishes; but  this  sort  of  thing  was  so  common  that  to  break 
the  monotony  two  of  the  midshipmen  got  permission  to 
go  ashore,  and  improved  the  time  by  righting  a  duel  with 
muskets. 

One  morning  we  saw  our  soldiers  hastily  constructing 
a  pontoon  bridge  on  the  river  a  short  distance  above  where 
we  were  anchored.  We  soon  learned  that  the  cause  of  their 
activity  was  that  General  Grant's  troops  had  surprised  and 
captured  Fort  Harrison  during  the  night,  and  that  Fort 
Harrison  was  the  key  to  our  advanced  line  of  defenses 
on  the  north  side  of  the  stream.  The  bridge  was  no 
sooner  completed  than  Hoke's  North  Carolina  division 
were  rushed  across  it.  These  were  the  best-dressed  and 
best-cared-for  troops  in  the  Confederate  Army,  as  the 
State,  with  commendable  paternalism,  owned  its  steamers 
and  had  gone  into  the  blockade-running  business  on  its 
own  account. 

Believing  that  the  object  of  the  sudden  movement  was 
to  retake  the  fort,  Midshipmen  Carter,  Hale,  Wright,  and 
myself  asked  and  received  permission  to  go  ashore  and 
see  at  close  range  the  coming  fight.  Following  the  troops 
we  saw  them  form  their  line  of  battle  in  front  of  the  fort 
and  its  outlying  breastworks,  while  the  shells  of  the  enemy 
were  bursting  over  their  heads  as  well  as  in  front,  behind, 
and  among  them.  Soon  we  heard  the  rumble  of  the  wheels 
of  gun  carriages  and  caissons,  as  our  light  batteries  came, 
at  the  gallop,  from  the  rear  and  dashed  through  the  spaces 


COLONEL    BEVERLY   KENNON 
Coast  Defense,  Egyptian  Army 


Assault  on  Fort  Harrison  209 

between  our  brigades  and  regiments,  and  wheeling  and  un- 
limbering  a  short  distance  from  our  front,  they  opened  a 
rapid  fire.  There  was  no  wind  stirring,  and  soon  the  ene- 
my's position,  as  well  as  that  of  our  light  batteries,  was 
obscured  from  view  by  the  dense  smoke.  Then  their  firing 
ceased,  and  so  did  that  of  the  enemy's  heavy  guns.  All 
at  once  our  artillery  was  seen  to  burst  through  the  bank 
of  smoke  and  rapidly  come  back  to  us,  dashing  through 
our  infantry  line  again,  wheeling  and  unlimbering  just  in 
their  rear:  this  manoeuvre  was  followed  by  complete  still- 
ness, the  most  trying  time  in  the  life  of  a  soldier,  that  two 
or  three  minutes,  which  seem  unending,  while  waiting  for 
the  order  to  charge. 

The  infantry  moved  forward,  at  the  double-quick,  under 
cover  of  the  smoke  which  lay  close  to  the  ground  in  the 
heavy  atmosphere.  Nothing  could  be  heard  save  the  tramp 
of  hurrying  feet.  Fort  Harrison  maintained  an  ominous  si- 
lence. As  our  men  neared  the  fortifications  suddenly  from 
twenty  thousand  throats  burst  forth  the  famous  rebel  yell 
which  fairly  rent  the  air.  When  within  about  a  hundred 
yards  from  the  coveted  works  there  arose  a  long  line  of 
blue-coated  soldiers,  seemingly  from  out  of  the  ground, 
who  poured  a  deadly  volley  into  the  oncoming  ranks  of 
the  North  Carolinians  and  at  the  same  time  the  heavy  guns 
of  the  fort  sprinkled  them  with  shrapnel,  grape,  and  can- 
ister. The  fight  was  fast  and  furious  for  a  time,  and  then 
we  saw  some  slightly  wounded  men  going  to  the  rear; 
these  were  followed  by  the  more  seriously  injured,  each 
accompanied  and  assisted  by  two  or  three  unhurt  men, 
who,  moved  by  compassion  (?)  assisted  them.  We  then 
knew  what  was  coming,  and  soon  saw  the  whole  line  fall 
back,  but  not  in  any  great  disorder.  We  had  been  repulsed, 
but  the  enemy  was  not  following  us. 

When  we  reached  the  line,  from  which  we  had  started 
to  make  our  unsuccessful  assault,  the  troops  re-formed  and 
waited.  Suddenly  from  the  left  of  the  line  we  heard  cheering 


210   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  wondered  what  it  was  for.  It  was  not  the  rebel  yell, 
which  once  heard  could  never  be  mistaken  for  any  other 
sound;  the  sound  we  now  heard  was  evidently  a  burst  of 
enthusiasm,  which  was  taken  up  by  regiment  after  regi- 
ment until  the  whole  line  was  adding  to  its  volume.  It 
was  not  long  before  we  discovered  the  cause  of  the  man- 
ifestation —  for  there,  with  his  silvery  head  uncovered, 
hat  in  hand,  was  seen  riding  down  the  line  —  General 
Robert  E.  Lee.  He  was  a  picture  of  dignity  as,  mounted 
on  his  famous  gray  charger  "Traveler,"  he  spoke  seriously 
to  his  unsuccessful  troops.  As  he  passed  in  front  of  where 
we  were  standing,  we  could  plainly  hear  what  he  was  say- 
ing —  he  was  telling  the  men  how  important  Fort  Harri- 
son was  to  our  line  of  defense,  and  that  he  was  sure  they 
could  take  it  if  they  would  make  another  earnest  effort. 
Their  answer  was  given  in  deafening  cheers. 

Again  they  went  forward  to  the  assault,  and  again  were 
they  repulsed,  this  time  with  worse  slaughter  than  had 
been  their  lot  on  the  first  attempt.  The  second  retreat  was 
much  more  disorderly  than  the  first,  but  again  they  re- 
formed and  waited  —  and  again  General  Lee  rode  down 
the  line. 

I  had  always  thought  General  Lee  was  a  very  cold  and 
unemotional  man,  but  he  showed  lots  of  feeling  and  excite- 
ment on  that  occasion;  even  the  staid  and  stately  "Trav- 
eler" caught  the  spirit  of  his  master,  and  was  prancing  and 
cavorting  while  the  general  was  imploring  his  men  to  make 
one  more  effort  to  take  the  position  for  him. 

Again  they  went  forward  and  again  they  came  back  — 
this  time  in  great  disorder.  In  fact,  it  was  a  sprinting 
match  on  a  big  scale.  I  had  heard  a  great  deal  about  the 
marvelous  marching  powers  of  the  Confederate  infantry- 
man, and  I  was  only  a  poor  "webfoot,"  temporarily  off 
his  element,  but  I  do  not  recall  having  seen  any  infantry- 
men pass  me  on  the  way  to  our  second  line  of  defense. 

When  the  troops  re-formed,  General  Lee  again  rode 


Lee  and  his  Soldiers  211 

down  the  line  trying  to  comfort  his  men  by  telling  them 
they  had  done  all  that  men  could  do,  and  that  anyhow  the 
place  was  not  of  as  much  importance  as  he  had  at  first 
thought  it  was.  This  talk  cheered  the  men,  and  they,  al- 
though worn  out  with  fatigue,  replied  by  cheering  their 
beloved  general. 

After  the  battle  a  surgeon  pressed  me  into  his  service 
and  made  me  hold  a  soldier's  shattered  leg  while  he  am- 
putated it.  I  would  have  preferred  to  be  shot  myself. 
Medicines  were  scarce  in  the  South  and  that  particular 
surgeon  had  neither  chloroform  nor  ether  in  his  medical 
kit. 

Disgusted,  tired,  and  weary,  I  returned  to  my  school 
and  my  studies. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

I  finally  become  a  passed  midshipman  —  Battery  Semmes  —  The  Dutch 
Gap  Canal  —  Mortar  pits  and  rifle  pits  —  The  lookout  tower  —  Trading  with 
the  enemy  —  Pickett's  famous  division  charges  a  rabbit  —  A  shell  from  a 
monitor  destroys  my  log  hut  —  Good  marksmanship  —  An  unexploded  shell 
—  General  Lee  inspects  battery  —  Costly  result  of  order  to  "give  him  a  shot 
in  fifteen  minutes"  —  Demonstration  against  City  Point  —  Confederate  iron- 
clads badly  hammered  —  "  Savez  "  Read  cuts  boom  across  the  river  —  A  thun- 
derous night. 

Shortly  after  the  fall  of  Fort  Harrison  I  passed  my 
examination  for  promotion  and  arrived  at  the  dignity  of 
being  a  passed  midshipman.  I  was  immediately  ordered 
to  the  naval  battery  called  Semmes,  situated  on  a  narrow 
tongue  of  land  formed  by  the  river.  It  was  the  most  ad- 
vanced of  our  defenses  on  the  river,  and  was  the  nearest 
of  any  of  our  batteries  to  the  Dutch  Gap  canal  which  was 
then  being  dug  by  General  B.  F.  Butler. 

Our  seven  heavy  guns,  rifled  and  smooth-bore,  were 
mounted  in  pits  dug  on  the  brow  of  a  gently  sloping  hill  — 
the  battery  was  only  thirty  feet  above  the  river.  Between 
each  of  the  guns  was  a  bomb-proof  which  protected  our 
ammunition.  The  guns  were  mounted  on  naval  carriages 
so  that  our  sailors  could  handle  their  accustomed  blocks 
and  tackles. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  and  forming  a  semi- 
circle around  the  peninsula  on  which  Semmes  was  located, 
were  the  heavy  Union  batteries  called  Bohler's,  Signal 
Hill,  Crow's  Nest,  the  Dutch  Gap  batteries,  and  the  How- 
lett  House  batteries,  and  when  they  all  opened  fire  at  once 
they  made  a  perfect  inferno  out  of  Battery  Semmes.  It 
surely  was  a  hot  spot. 

Some  six  hundred  yards  in  front  of  Battery  Semmes, 
on  the  land  side,  we  had  four  little  Cohorn  mortars  in  a 
pit,  and  with  these  we  tossed  shells  constantly  into  the 
canal  to  interfere  with  its  construction.   General  Butler  put 


Mortar  Pits  and  Rifle  Pits  213 

a  number  of  Confederate  prisoners  to  work  in  his  canal,  and 
very  thoughtfully  sent  us  word  that  we  were  only  killing 
our  own  men  with  our  mortar  shells.  About  the  same 
time  that  we  received  this  considerate  message,  Jeff  Phelps, 
a  midshipman  who  had  been  one  of  the  "Brood  of  the 
Constitution,"  and  who  was  one  of  the  prisoners  com- 
pelled to  dig  in  the  canal,  in  some  way  managed  to  get  a 
note  to  us  telling  us  that  we  "were  doing  fine"  and  to 
"keep  it  up."  We  only  kept  some  eight  or  ten  men  at  a 
time  in  the  mortar  pit  and  between  the  pit  and  our  bat- 
tery were  a  number  of  rifle  pits.  When  the  mortars  aggra- 
vated General  Butler  too  much,  he  would  send  a  force 
across  the  river  to  charge  the  mortars.  Seeing  them  com- 
ing, our  men  would  hastily  beat  a  retreat,  and  like  prairie 
dogs  tumbling  into  their  holes,  they  would  disappear.  The 
Union  soldiers  would,  of  course,  capture  the  mortars  and 
spike  them,  but  when  we  thought  that  as  many  of  them  as 
the  pit  could  hold  were  well  in  it,  we  would  cut  loose  with 
the  heavy  guns  of  the  big  battery  behind  us  which  were 
trained  on  it.  Then  the  Federal  soldiers  would  hasten  back 
to  the  river,  and  before  they  could  get  across,  our  men, 
who  were  provided  with  bows  and  drills,  would  have  new 
vent  holes  bored  and  would  be  again  tossing  shells  as 
though  nothing  had  happened  to  interfere  with  their  day's 
work.  Why  General  Butler's  men  never  carried  off  the 
mortars  with  them  we  could  never  understand  —  two 
strong  men  could  have  lifted  any  one  of  them,  they  were 
so  small  and  light. 

General  Butler  had  built  a  lofty  lookout  tower  out  of 
timber.  It  was  very  open  work,  and  on  the  top  of  it  he 
placed  a  telescope.  I  met  a  member  of  his  staff  after  the 
war  who  told  me  that  they  could  see  every  movement  we 
made,  and  that  on  one  occasion  he  had  distinctly  seen  a 
man  in  our  battery  cut  off  a  chew  of  tobacco  and  put  it 
into  his  mouth. 

There  was  a  mystery  as  to  the  way  in  which  privates 


214   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

would  come  to  a  tacit  agreement  with  the  enemy  about  not 
doing  any  sniping  on  certain  parts  of  the  line.  I  knew  of 
one  stretch  of  breastworks  where  our  men  could  expose 
themselves  with  perfect  impunity  up  to  a  spot  on  which 
stood  an  empty  barrel,  and  on  the  other  side  of  that  barrel, 
if  a  man  showed  an  old  hat  on  the  end  of  a  ramrod,  it  was 
instantly  perforated  with  bullets. 

The  Union  soldiers  craved  tobacco  of  which  the  South- 
erners had  an  abundance  and  the  "grayback"  longed  for 
coffee  or  sugar.  At  some  points  on  the  line  trading  in  these 
commodities  went  on  briskly  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
officers.  Their  dealings  were  strictly  honorable.  A  man, 
say  from  the  Southern  side,  would  creep  outside  the  works, 
and  when  he  reached  a  certain  stump  he  would  place  a 
couple  of  large  plugs  of  tobacco  on  it  and  then  return  to  his 
companions.  After  a  time  he  would  again  creep  to  the  stump 
to  find  that  his  tobacco  was  gone,  but  in  its  place  was 
a  small  quantity  of  the  longed-for  coffee  and  sugar.  We 
always  carried  one  or  two  long  plugs  of  tobacco  in  our  inside 
breast  pockets,  as  it  was  a  common  belief  that  if  a  man  was 
captured  and  had  tobacco  it  would  insure  him  good  treat- 
ment. 

One  foggy  night  I  was  on  duty  and  had  visited  our  out- 
posts. While  returning  to  the  battery  on  a  path  close  to  the 
riverside,  I  distinctly  heard  oars  slapping  the  water  —  the 
rowlocks  were  evidently  muffled.  Although  I  could  not  see 
the  boat  I  felt  that  it  must  be  very  near  the  shore,  and  I 
hailed  it  with  a  "Boat  ahoy!  Keep  farther  out  in  the 
stream!"  The  answer  came  back:  "We  don't  do  any 
picket  firing  on  this  line."  I  told  the  spokesman  that  I  knew 
that,  but  we  did  n't  want  him  to  bunk  with  us,  and  hardly 
were  the  words  out  of  my  mouth  when  the  bow  of  the  boat 
was  rammed  into  the  mud  at  my  feet.  I  felt  sure  my  time 
had  come,  and  hastily  jerked  my  pistol  out  of  the  holster 
intending  to  fire  so  as  to  give  the  alarm,  when  I  heard  a 
voice  say,  "For  the  love  of  Mike,  Johnny,  give  me  a  chew 


Pickett's  Division  charges  a  Rabbit      215 

of  tobacco."  The  tone  was  so  pleading  and  earnest  that 
I  could  not  resist  it  and  handed  the  fellow  my  plug.  In  re- 
turn he  gave  me  a  canteen  full  of  whiskey.  We  entered  into 
conversation,  and  I  discovered  that  he  was  an  old  classmate 
of  mine  at  Annapolis  who  had  "bilged"  and  was  now  a 
master's  mate  in  charge  of  a  picket  boat  whose  duty  was 
to  give  warning  if  our  ironclads  descended  the  river.  I 
warned  him  about  the  folly  of  his  act,  and  he  shoved  out 
into  the  stream  and  disappeared  forever  out  of  my  life. 
When  I  produced  my  canteen  before  my  messmates  they 
fairly  went  wild  with  joy,  but  nothing  ever  could  induce  me 
to  tell  how  I  had  come  into  possession  of  the  liquor. 

Muskrats  or  rabbits,  when  caught,  which  was  rarely, 
were  a  welcome  addition  to  our  menu.  Pickett's  division 
supported  our  battery  and  was  encamped  about  half  a  mile 
from  us.  One  day  we  thought  that  those  thousands  of  men 
had  gone  crazy  —  there  was  the  wildest  commotion  among 
them.  Men  rushed  to  and  fro  in  the  wildest  confusion,  fall- 
ing over  one  another  in  every  direction  —  it  looked  like  a 
free  fight.  We  sent  over  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  riot  and 
were  informed  that  one  poor  little  "cotton-tail  bunny" 
had  jumped  out  of  a  bush  in  the  centre  of  the  camp  and  that 
some  ten  thousand  men  had  given  chase  in  hopes  of  having 
him  for  supper. 

The  winter  of  1864-65  was  an  intensely  cold  one.  Snow 
from  three  to  six  inches  in  depth  lay  constantly  on  the 
ground  keeping  the  trenches  wet  and  muddy,  and  the  con- 
sequent discomfort  was  great.  Lieutenant  Bradford,  our 
commander,  and  Lieutenant  Hilary  Cenas  and  the  surgeon 
had  two  log  huts  to  live  in.  Becoming  envious  I  got  several 
of  the  men  to  assist  me  in  building  a  cabin  for  myself,  with 
the  chinks  all  stuffed  with  mud  and  with  a  beautiful  mud 
chimney  of  which  I  was  very  proud.  I  had  had  it  located  in 
a  little  gulch  behind  the  battery  and  it  did  look  so  comfort- 
able, but  alas,  work  had  gone  on  very  rapidly  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  canal  despite  our  continual  mortar  fire,  and 


216   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

on  the  afternoon  of  the  day  on  which  my  house  was  finished 
a  monitor  fired  several  eleven- inch  shells  through  the  canal, 
and  with  the  whole  State  of  Virginia  to  select  from,  one  of 
these  projectiles  could  find  no  other  place  to  explode  in  but 
my  little  cabin,  which  it  scattered  to  the  four  winds. 

Some  days  there  would  be  a  lull  in  the  artillery  fire,  and 
we  could  walk  about  exposing  ourselves  to  the  enemy's  fire 
with  perfect  impunity,  and  on  other  days  the  most  trifling 
movement  on  our  part,  such  as  the  moving  of  an  empty 
water  barrel,  or  a  few  men  chasing  a  frightened  and  bewil- 
dered "  cotton-tail "  would  bring  upon  us  a  storm  of  projec- 
tiles from  the  enemy's  guns.  Constant  practice  had  made 
the  artillery  firing  very  effective,  so  much  so  that  it  was 
not  an  uncommon  thing  for  us  to  have  one  or  more  of  our 
guns  knocked  off  their  carriages.  Lieutenant  Cenas  seemed 
to  have  a  tacit  understanding  with  the  gunner  of  a  rifled 
piece  in  the  Crow's  Nest  Battery  whose  marksmanship  he 
admired  very  much.  Cenas  would  go  outside  of  the  works 
and  place  an  empty  barrel  or  tobacco  box  on  top  of  a  stump, 
and  then,  stepping  to  one  side,  he  would  wave  his  arms  as 
a  signal  to  his  favorite  gun-pointer  on  the  other  side,  and 
immediately  we  would  see  a  puff  of  smoke  and  the  projec- 
tile would  always  tear  up  the  ground  very  close  to  the  stump 
and  frequently  both  stump  and  barrel  would  be  knocked 
into  smithereens. 

One  afternoon  a  monitor  fired  a  shell  through  the  canal 
which  landed  a  few  yards  in  front  of  our  battery.  A  sailor, 
in  pure  dare-deviltry,  went  outside  to  pick  it  up.  Just  as 
he  got  to  it  I  saw  a  thread  of  smoke  arising  from  the  fuse, 
and  I  yelled  to  him  to  jump  back  —  but  too  late.  The 
sailor  gave  it  a  push  with  his  foot  and  it  bounded  into  the 
air  taking  off  the  man's  leg ;  the  shell  then  landed  in  one  of 
our  gun  pits  and  exploded  killing  and  wounding  several  men. 
It  must  have  been  spinning  with  great  rapidity  on  its  axis 
and  only  needed  the  touch  of  the  sailor's  foot  to  start  it 
again  on  its  mission  of  destruction. 


Costly  Result  of  an  Order  217 

We  flew  no  flag,  as  it  was  useless  to  hoist  one ;  the  enemy 
would  shoot  it  away  as  fast  we  would  put  it  up.  A  wonder- 
fully accurate  gun  was  a  light  field  piece,  a  Parrott  gun, 
which  would  come  out  from  behind  the  Bohler  Battery, 
take  up  a  position  in  the  bushes,  and  shoot  at  any  man 
bringing  water  from  a  near-by  spring,  and  he  was  frequently 
successful  in  hitting  him.  One  day  General  Lee  was  inspect- 
ing the  line  and  stopped  for  a  few  moments  at  our  battery. 
He  ordered  us  to  drive  this  fellow  away,  and  then  looking 
at  his  watch  added,  "Give  him  a  shot  in  fifteen  minutes." 
Then  the  general  on  his  gray  horse  rode  away.  At  the 
expiration  of  the  fifteen  minutes  we  let  go  our  seven  heavy 
guns  into  the  bushes  where  we  supposed  the  fellow  to  be  — 
with  the  result  that  he  limbered  up  and  hastily  took  refuge 
behind  his  works,  and  from  fifty  to  seventy-five  guns  in  the 
batteries  which  enfiladed  Semmes  cut  loose  into  us  and  kept 
it  up  for  three  days  and  nights,  dismounting  three  of  our 
guns,  killing  and  wounding  a  number  of  our  men. 

We  could  shoot  just  as  well  at  night  as  we  could  in  the 
daytime,  as  from  constant  practice  we  had  the  ranges  of  all 
of  the  enemy's  batteries,  and  had  marked  the  trunnions  of 
our  guns  for  range  and  the  traverses  for  direction.  Such 
firing  was  accurate,  as  was  proved  on  several  occasions  by 
our  discovering  at  daylight  that  we  had  dismounted  some 
of  the  guns  of  our  antagonists. 

In  the  latter  part  of  January,  1865,  our  supply  of  ammu- 
nition was  running  short,  and  as  a  consequence  we  were 
ordered  to  be  sparing  with  it,  so  we  would  only  fire  a  gun 
when  the  enemy's  fire  would  slacken  up  a  bit  to  let  them 
know  that  we  were  still  there.  This  seemed  to  encourage 
our  opponents  and  they  hammered  us  all  day  with  their  big 
guns,  and  all  through  the  nights  they  dropped  mortar  shells 
among  us.  These  shells,  with  their  burning  fuses,  resembled 
meteors  flying  through  the  air;  they  made  an  awful  screech- 
ing noise  as  they  tore  the  atmosphere  apart  when  coming 
down  before  we  heard  the  thud  of  their  striking  the  ground 


218   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  the  terrific  explosion  which  would  follow,  and  then 
would  come  the  whistling  of  the  fragments  as  they  scattered 
in  every  direction.  We  were  so  accustomed  to  these  sounds 
that  we  did  not  allow  them  to  interfere  with  our  slumbers, 
as  wrapped  in  our  one  blanket  we  slept  in  the  bomb-proofs 
or  magazines. 

The  end  of  the  Southern  Confederacy  was  near  at  hand, 
although  we  at  the  front  little  realized  the  fact.  The  author- 
ities in  Richmond  determined  to  make  a  daring  attempt  to 
capture  or  destroy  General  Grant's  base  of  supplies  at  City 
Point  on  the  James.  Late  on  the  afternoon  of  January  23, 
1865,  we  received  notice  to  be  ready,  as  our  three  ironclads, 
the  Virginia  Number  2,  the  Richmond,  and  the  Fredericks- 
burg, would  come  down  that  night,  run  the  gantlet  of  the 
Federal  batteries,  and  try  to  force  their  way  through  the 
boom  the  enemy  had  placed  across  the  river  (at  Howlett's) 
in  anticipation  of  just  such  an  attempt.  I  happened  to  be 
officer  of  the  day.  The  night  was  very  dark,  and  suddenly 
I  heard  a  sentry  challenge  something  in  the  river.  I  ran 
down  to  the  edge  of  the  water  and  arrived  there  just  in  time 
to  see  a  rowboat  stick  her  nose  into  the  mud  at  my  very 
feet,  and  was  much  surprised  to  see  my  old  shipmate, 
"Savez"  Read,  step  ashore.  He  was  in  a  jolly  mood,  as  he 
told  me  that  our  ironclads  would  follow  him  in  a  couple  of 
hours,  and  that  he  was  going  ahead  to  cut  the  boom  so  that 
they  could  pass  on  and  destroy  City  Point.  "And  now, 
youngster,"  he  said,  "you  fellows  make  those  guns  of  yours 
hum  when  the  'Yanks'  open,  and  mind  that  you  don't 
shoot  too  low,  for  I  will  be  down  there  in  the  middle  of  the 
river."  And  then  he  put  his  hand  affectionately  on  my 
shoulder  and  added :  "  Jimmie,  it's  going  to  be  a  great  night; 
I  only  wish  you  could  go  with  me :  a  sailor  has  no  business 
on  shore,  anyway."  And  laughing  he  stepped  back  into  his 
boat  and  shoved  out  into  the  stream. 

The  enemy  must  have  had  some  information  as  to  our 
plans,  for  Read  had  not  proceeded  very  far  before  the  bank 


A  Thunderous  Night  219 

of  the  river  looked  as  though  it  was  infested  by  innumerable 
fireflies  as  the  sharpshooters  rained  bullets  on  his  boat 
which  was  proceeding  with  muffled  oars.  They  completely 
riddled  it,  but  Read  kept  on  while  bailing  the  water  out  of 
her,  and  strange  to  say  he  reached  the  boom  and  success- 
fully cut  it. 

About  two  hours  after  Read  left,  our  so-called  ironclads 
noiselessly  glided  by  the  battery.  The  stillness  was  un- 
broken for  so  long  a  time  that  we  began  to  congratulate 
ourselves  that  they  had  safely  got  by  the  enemy's  batteries 
without  being  discovered.  But  our  exultation  was  prema- 
ture —  they  did  get  by  the  Bohler  and  Signal  Hill  batteries 
unobserved,  but  unfortunately  the  furnaces  of  the  leading 
boat  were  stirred,  and  a  flame  shot  out  of  her  smokestack 
which  instantly  brought  upon  her  a  shower  of  shot  and  shell, 
and  instantly  the  big  guns  on  both  sides  were  in  an  uproar. 
My!  but  that  was  a  thunderous  night;  the  very  ground 
quivered  under  the  constant  explosions. 

The  next  morning  we  learned  that  our  demonstration 
against  City  Point  had  resulted  in  a  most  mortifying  failure. 
The  smallest  of  our  ironclads,  the  Fredericksburg,  passed 
safely  through  the  obstructions,  but  the  Virginia,  which 
steered  very  badly,  ran  aground  and  blocked  the  passage 
to  the  Richmond.  The  wooden  gunboat  Drewry  also  missed 
the  channel  and  ran  ashore.  The  Fredericksburg  was  re- 
called and  the  big  monitor  Onondaga  with  her  immense 
guns  arrived  on  the  scene  shortly  after  daylight.  With  one 
shot  she  smashed  in  the  Virginia's  forward  shield.  The 
Virginia  got  afloat  again  and  presented  her  broadside, 
which  was  also  perforated  as  though  it  was  made  of  paper. 
She  then  brought  her  after  gun  into  action  and  a  shot  from 
the  monitor  also  smashed  her  after  shield.  They  all  returned 
that  night  under  a  rain  of  projectiles  from  the  shore  batteries 
similar  to  that  they  had  been  exposed  to  the  night  before,  and 
on  that  occasion  our  ironclads,  on  which  we  had  based  such 
high  hopes,  fired  their  last  hostile  shot.   The  end  was  near. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

The  Confederate  "White  House"  —  President  Davis  gives  an  impromptu 
lecture  on  bridle  bits  —  Letter  of  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis  denying  truth  of  anec- 
dote relating  to  President  Buchanan,  Mrs.  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  and  herself  — 
The  Southern  soldiers  and  girls  dance,  flirt,  and  marry,  oblivious  of  the  signs 
that  the  "debacle"  draws  near. 

Notwithstanding  the  hardships  we  were  all  necessarily 
subjected  to  at  the  front,  my  life  at  that  time  was  not  devoid 
of  pleasures.  Frequently  I  was  allowed  to  go  to  Richmond 
where  I  had  friends  and  where  I  was  made  welcome.  Among 
these  dear  friends  were  President  and  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis. 
I  have  mentioned  that  one  of  my  brothers  had  married  a 
cousin  of  Mrs.  Davis's,  and  her  youngest  brother,  Midship- 
man Jefferson  Davis  Howell,  was  one  of  my  most  intimate 
friends,  so  I  was  made  to  feel  very  much  at  home  at  the 
Confederate  "White  House."  I  remember  being  there  one 
day  with  my  fianc6e  sitting  on  a  sofa  in  a  parlor  adjoining 
the  room  Mr.  Davis  used  as  his  private  office,  when  unex- 
pectedly the  door  between  the  two  rooms  opened  and  the 
President  entered.  He  apologized  for  intruding  on  us,  say- 
ing that  he  expected  to  find  Mrs.  Davis  there.  In  one  hand 
he  held  a  steel  bridle  bit  and  in  the  other  a  piece  of  chamois 
leather  with  which  he  was  polishing  it.  He  at  once  proceeded 
to  tell  us  about  the  merits  of  that  particular  bit,  and  becom- 
ing interested  in  the  subject  he  went  on  to  give  us  quite  a 
lecture  on  bridle  bits,  their  uses  and  abuses;  he  told  us  how 
the  cruel  Mexican  bit,  with  which  a  brutal  man  can  break 
the  jaw  of  a  horse,  had  come  down  from  the  ancients  and 
had  been  imported  into  Morocco  by  the  Arabs  and  into 
Spain  by  the  Moors,  and  by  the  Spanish  into  Mexico  and 
South  America.  He  was  familiar  also  with  the  modern  bits 
and  was  quite  eloquent  over  his  account  of  how  Chifney,  a 
famous  English  jockey,  had  invented  the  most  merciful  of 
all  curb  bits.   He  told  us  a  lot  more  about  bridle  bits  which 


Anecdote  relating  to  Buchanan         221 

I  cannot  remember,  and  as  he  told  it  it  made  the  simple 
subject  much  more  interesting  than  I  could  ever  have  imag- 
ined it  could  be  made. 

Mrs.  Davis  was  highly  gifted  intellectually,  and  in  her 
home  was  an  affectionate  wife  and  mother;  her  devotion 
to  her  husband  and  children  was  beautiful  to  see.  In  so- 
ciety she  was  bright  and  witty,  and  on  occasion  could 
blight  with  sarcasm  any  one  who  had  the  misfortune  to 
displease  her,  and  when  she  did  turn  loose  her  tongue  in 
that  vein,  society  in  Richmond  was  usually  kept  in  a  state 
of  hysterical  laughter  for  weeks  afterwards. 

There  were  many  stories  concerning  Mrs.  Davis's  en- 
mity toward  Mrs.  General  Joseph  E.  Johnston,  but  they 
were  without  any  foundation  in  fact.  Mrs.  Davis  often 
spoke  to  me  about  her  affection  for  Mrs.  Johnston  and  how 
intimate  they  had  been  in  Washington  prior  to  the  war. 
One  of  the  stories,  which  is  still  current  at  this  day,  was 
that  when  Mrs.  Davis  went  to  bid  President  Buchanan 
good-bye,  she  told  him  that  she  could  forgive  everything 
except  his  having  turned  Mrs.  Joe  Johnston's  head  by 
making  her  husband  a  brigadier-general.  This  story  was 
revamped  and  published  in  many  papers  years  afterwards. 
I  sent  Mrs.  Davis  a  clipping  containing  the  story,  and  this 
is  the  letter  she  wrote  me  in  acknowledging  its  receipt. 
The  letter,  with  some  others  which  she  was  kind  enough 
to  write  me,  are  now  in  the  Congressional  Library :  — 

"The  Rockingham,"  Narragansett  Pier,  R.I. 
August  19,  1898. 
My  dear  Jimmie:  — 

I  should  have  answered  your  two  kind  letters  and  offered 
thanks  for  them  and  also  for  the  good  likeness  of  my  beloved 
brother,  but  I  have  been  so  utterly  wretched  I  could  not  do  so. 
My  Winnie  has  now  been  critically  ill  for  twenty-eight  days,  and 
is  still  quite  ill  and  suffering  so  that  I  can  think  of  nothing  else. 
Our  physician  seems  not  to  fear  the  outcome  of  her  illness,  but 
she  is  dreadfully  reduced  and  very  patient  in  her  pain. 

The  anecdote  of  Mr.  Buchanan  and  me  is  nonsense.   Nothing 


222        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

of  the  kind  or  the  least  like  it  ever  happened.   I  was  unaffectedly 
fond  of  him  and  went  to  bid  him  an  affectionate  farewell. 

My  brother's  likeness  is  such  a  comfort  to  me.  I  enjoy  looking 
at  his  boyish  face  more  than  I  can  express.  Thank  you  from  the 
bottom  of  my  heart  for  your  kind  thought  of  me. 

I  am  more  than  glad  that  you  did  not  go  to  Cuba,  since  the  war 
has  been  so  short  and  decisive  —  you  could  only  have  lost  your 
health,  and  could  not  have  added  much  to  your  reputation  by 
any  notable  achievement. 

I  hope  that  Mrs.  Morgan  continues  well. 

I  do  not  know  how  long  we  shall  be  here,  perhaps  until  the  last 
of  October  before  we  return  home. 

Believe  me  cordially  your  friend, 

V.  Jefferson  Davis. 

At  the  house  of  Mr.  Trenholm  I  was  always  received  as 
one  of  the  family.  The  beautiful  house,  which  had  been 
built  originally  by  an  English  gentleman  of  wealth  and 
artistic  tastes,  was  the  centre  of  a  certain  amount  of  gayety, 
and  frequented,  especially  on  Saturday  evenings,  by  many 
distinguished  people,  among  them  of  course  many  for- 
eigners, who  visited  Richmond  for  the  excitement  of  the 
experience.  Mr.  Trenholm,  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury, 
was  a  man  of  great  wealth  and  probably  the  largest  owner 
of  blockade-runners,  and  consequently  almost  every  luxury 
in  the  way  of  food  was  most  hospitably  placed  before  his 
guests. 

Where  two  or  three  young  Southerners  were  gathered 
together  there  was  sure  to  be  singing  and  dancing.  It  is 
true  that  there  were  not  many  handsome  toilets  to  be  seen 
at  these  receptions,  but  the  young  girls  were  so  pretty  no 
one  took  the  trouble  to  look  at  their  dresses  of  a  style 
fashionable  before  the  war.  The  foreigners,  of  course,  ap- 
peared in  the  orthodox  dress  coats  and  white  ties,  but  we 
poor  fellows  who  belonged  at  the  front  shamelessly  joined 
the  gay  throng  in  our  rags  and  tatters.  My  uniform,  which 
had  once  been  gray,  had  turned  a  green  yellowish  brown 
owing  to  its  exposure  to  the  elements  and  the  mud  in  the 


Southern  Soldiers  dance  and  marry      223 

trenches.  I  had  had  the  misfortune  to  have  one  of  my  coat 
tails  burned  off  while  sleeping  too  close  to  a  camp-fire; 
one  of  my  trousers  legs  had  raveled  out  to  halfway  up  the 
calf  of  my  leg,  and  the  lower  part  of  the  other  trousers  leg 
was  very  ragged ;  I  wore  a  boot  on  one  foot  and  a  shoe  on 
the  other  —  the  boot  on  the  bare  leg.  This  Falstaffian  cos- 
tume was  set  off  with  a  sword,  and  if  there  is  anything  that 
will  make  a  ragged  man  look  more  ridiculous  than  another 
it  is  the  wearing  of  a  sword.  But  the  girls  in  their  four- 
year-old  dresses  did  not  mind  our  appearance,  and  it  would 
have  been  a  cold  day  when  a  man  in  civilian  togs,  no  matter 
how  well  dressed,  could  have  persuaded  one  of  those  South- 
ern girls  to  dance  with  him  when  a  man  from  the  front 
wanted  a  turn. 

Mr.  Trenholm,  as  I  have  said  before,  was  most  hospi- 
tably inclined  and  was  the  possessor  of  some  of  the  finest 
and  oldest  Madeira  wine  in  the  country;  naturally  his  in- 
vitations to  dinner  were  rarely  declined.  I  used  to  meet  at 
his  table  the  most  distinguished  generals  of  our  army  and 
the  members  of  the  Cabinet.  These  gentlemen  for  the 
most  part  were  taciturn  and  serious,  but  Mr.  Judah  P. 
Benjamin,  the  Secretary  of  State,  and  Mr.  Trenholm  were 
both  gifted  conversationalists  and  very  witty,  and  they 
always  enlivened  the  banquets  with  anecdotes.  Mr.  Pierre 
Soule,  of  Louisiana,  was  also  a  frequent  guest;  he  was  a 
most  interesting  talker.  It  was  Mr.  Soul6,  who  when 
United  States  Minister  to  Spain,  after  the  duel  between 
his  son  and  the  Duke  of  Alba,  brother-in-law  of  the  French 
Emperor,  shot  and  crippled  for  life  the  Marquis  de  Turgot, 
the  French  Ambassador  to  Spain. 

Despite  the  sad  state  of  affairs,  both  in  the  Capital  and 
in  the  country,  there  were  balls  and  parties,  and  "marrying 
and  giving  in  marriage"  going  on  in  Richmond.  Mr. 
McFarland,  a  wealthy  banker,  was  to  give  a  ball  and  social 
Richmond  was  all  agog  over  the  prospect.  To  attend  this 
ball  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  have  a  new  uniform.   With 


224   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

any  amount  of  Confederate  money  at  my  disposal,  the 
modern  man  might  ask  why  I  did  not  go  to  a  tailor  and 
order  one,  but  that  was  not  the  way  we  did  things  in  those 
days.  In  the  first  place,  there  were  no  stores  and  had  there 
been  there  would  not  have  been  anything  in  them  for  sale.  I 
had  to  search  the  town  before  I  found  a  man  who  possessed 
a  few  yards  of  gray  cloth  and  willing  to  part  with  it  for 
several  hundred  dollars  in  Confederate  money.  I  finally 
found  such  a  man,  and  also  bought  from  him  a  pair  of 
boots  made  out  of  thick,  half-tanned  cowskin  for  which  I 
paid  three  hundred  dollars.  I  looked  so  nice  in  my  new 
togs  that  I  was  immediately  asked  by  an  army  surgeon 
to  be  one  of  the  groomsmen  at  his  wedding,  and  I  also 
attended  the  wedding  of  the  beautiful  Miss  Hetty  Cary 
to  General  John  Pegram  which  had  so  sad  an  ending  a  few 
days  afterwards  when  General  Pegram  was  killed. 

While  the  young  people  were  laughing,  dancing,  and 
being  killed,  the  black  clouds  of  adversity  were  gathering 
over  our  beloved  Confederacy.  Bitter  dissension  had  re- 
sulted from  the  removal  of  General  Johnston  from  the 
command  of  the  Western  army  —  a  step  which  President 
Davis  took  in  response  to  popular  clamor  for  a  change. 
This  demand  did  not  come  from  Johnston's  soldiers,  but 
from  the  populace,  who  cried  out  that  if  Johnston  contin- 
ued his  strategy,  the  Western  army  would  soon  be  in  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico:  they  wanted  an  aggressive  man  put  in 
command,  and  Mr.  Davis  gave  them  General  Hood.  He 
was  aggressive  enough,  Heaven  knows!  After  Hood's 
bloody  victory  at  Franklin,  in  which  some  seventeen 
Southern  generals  fell,  Mr.  Davis  was  heard  to  observe 
that  "one  more  such  victory  and  there  would  not  be  any 
Western  army  left.'*  After  the  disastrous  defeat  at  Nash- 
ville the  very  men  who  had  clamored  to  have  General 
Johnston  superseded,  clamored  against  Mr.  Davis  for  hav- 
ing removed  him. 

The  Confederate  Congress  was  at  open  war  with  Presi- 


The  "Debacle"  draws  near  225 

dent  Davis  and  missed  no  opportunity  to  thwart  his  poli- 
cies. They  refused  point-blank  to  adopt  any  of  his  sugges- 
tions for  the  relief  of  the  pitiable  condition  of  the  country, 
and  in  rejecting  the  financial  schemes  submitted  by  Mr. 
Trenholm,  the  Senate  Finance  Committee  frankly  told 
that  gentleman  that  under  no  circumstances  could  they 
adopt  his  suggestions,  as  it  would  imply  their  sanction  of 
a  measure  emanating  from  Mr.  Davis's  administration! 
Mr.  Trenholm  told  them  that  when  they  had  treated  Mr. 
Memminger,  his  predecessor  in  the  Treasury  Department, 
in  the  same  way,  Mr.  Memminger  had  consulted  him  as  a 
friend  as  to  the  course  he  should  pursue,  and  that  he,  Mr. 
Trenholm,  had  advised  him  to  resign.  Now  that  he  him- 
self was  placed  in  a  similar  position  it  was  necessary  that 
he  should  do  likewise.  The  Senate  Committee  protested 
that  such  a  course  would  not  do  at  all,  as  they  had  a  finan- 
cial proposition  of  their  own  which  they  wanted  him  to 
father  on  account  of  the  popular  belief  in  his  ability  as  a 
financier.  Mr.  Trenholm,  no  less  frank  than  they  were, 
informed  them,  after  glancing  over  their  bill,  that  he  had  a 
reputation  among  business  men  to  maintain,  and  that  if 
he  put  his  name  and  gave  his  approval  to  such  a  measure, 
financiers  would  laugh  at  him.  He  then  went  to  Mr.  Davis 
and  tendered  his  resignation.  Mr.  Davis  told  him  that  it 
was  his  duty  to  remain  in  the  Cabinet;  that  he,  Mr.  Davis, 
recognized  that  with  a  Congress  at  open  war  with  the 
administration  nothing  could  be  done  to  relieve  the  Treas- 
ury. He  declared  he  needed  Mr.  Trenholm's  clear  head 
and  advice,  and  begged  him  to  stand  by  him  in  his  hour  of 
need. 

As  an  example  of  the  demoralization  of  the  Confederate 
Government  at  this  time,  I  remember  going  into  the  Sen- 
ate Chamber  one  day  while  that  august  body  was  in  ses- 
sion. Heavy  firing  was  going  on  at  the  front  which  could 
not  only  be  plainly  heard  inside  the  building,  but  made 
the  windows  rattle  when  particularly  heavy  guns  were 


226   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

discharged.  To  this  ominous  obligato  the  lawmakers  were 
earnestly  debating  the  question  as  to  how  many  daily  news- 
papers should  be  placed  on  the  desk  of  each  Senator  every 
morning.  While  these  petty  quarrels  were  going  on,  the 
destiny  of  a  whole  people  was  being  ruthlessly  decided  in 
blood  and  suffering;  we  men  in  the  trenches  fought,  shiv- 
ered, and  starved  outside  the  city,  and  danced  and  made 
merry  whenever  we  were  allowed  to  come  within  its  limits, 
little  dreaming  that  the  end  was  so  near. 

The  Southern  soldier  was  a  very  determined  fellow,  and 
at  the  same  time  reckless  and  light-hearted;  one  moment 
he  would  be  in  deep  distress  over  the  loss  of  some  dear 
comrade  and  the  next  he  would  be  shouting  with  laughter 
over  some  senseless  joke  perpetrated  by  one  of  his  com- 
panions. I  went  one  day  to  a  tobacco  warehouse,  then 
used  as  a  hospital,  to  see  my  friend  Captain  F.  W.  Dawson, 
who  was  very  seriously  wounded.  The  ladies  of  Richmond 
were  very  kind  to  the  wounded  and  out  of  their  scanty 
means  they  managed  to  make  dainties  which  they  would 
carry  to  the  hospitals  and  distribute  themselves.  The  day 
was  hot  and  I  found  my  friend  lying  on  a  cot  near  the  open 
front  door,  so  weak  that  he  could  not  speak  above  a  whis- 
per, and  after  greeting  him  and  speaking  some  words  of 
cheer  I  saw  that  he  was  anxious  to  tell  me  something.  I 
leaned  over  him  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say,  and  the  poor 
fellow  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  Jimmie,  for  God's  sake,  make 
them  move  my  cot  to  the  back  of  the  building." 

I  assured  him  that  he  had  been  placed  in  the  choicest 
spot  in  the  hospital,  where  he  could  get  any  little  air  that 
might  be  stirring;  but  he  still  insisted  that  he  wanted  to 
be  moved,  giving  as  a  reason  that  every  lady  who  entered 
the  place  washed  his  face  and  fed  him  with  jelly.  The  re- 
sult was  that  his  face  felt  sore  and  he  was  stuffed  so  full 
of  jelly  that  he  was  most  uncomfortable,  as  he  was  so 
weak  he  could  not  defend  himself,  and  the  procession  of 
women  would  not  listen  to  his  protests.    Shaking  with 


Dawson  in  Hospital  227 

laughter,  I  delivered  his  request  to  the  head  surgeon,  who 
pinned  a  notice  on  Dawson's  sheet  to  the  effect  that  "This 
man  must  only  be  washed  and  fed  by  the  regular  nurses." 
Dawson  was  a  gallant  soldier  and  served  on  the  staffs  of 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  Fitzhugh  Lee,  and  Longstreet.  He  recov- 
ered from  his  wounds  and  in  1873  married  my  sister  Sarah. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Ordered  to  accompany  Mrs.  Davis  and  party  south  —  No  Pullman  cars  in 
those  days  —  President  Davis  bids  his  family  good-bye  —  Insolent  deserters 
insult  Mrs.  Davis  at  Charlotte,  North  Carolina  —  A  Hebrew  gentleman  gives 
her  shelter  —  Midshipmen  guarding  the  Confederacy's  gold  escort  her  to 
Abbeville,  South  Carolina  —  President  Davis  and  his  Cabinet  at  Abbeville. 

The  spring  of  1865  was  fast  approaching  and  we  ex- 
pected soon  to  see  great  changes.  One  army  or  the  other 
would  surely  attack ;  they  could  not  stand  still  indefinitely. 
One  morning  things  became  very  lively  at  Battery 
Semmes.  A  rifled  gun  in  my  division  exploded  and  an 
eight-inch  smooth-bore  was  dismounted  by  a  well-directed 
shot  from  Signal  Hill.  About  noon  my  commander  sent 
for  me  and,  to  my  amazement,  ordered  me  to  go  up  to 
Richmond  and  report  in  person  to  the  Secretary  of  the 
Navy,  adding  that  I  had  better  take  my  belongings  with 
me.  I  at  once  began  to  think  of  all  my  sins  of  commission 
and  omission.  What  could  a  Secretary  of  the  Navy  want 
to  see  a  passed  midshipman  for  unless  it  was  to  give  him  a 
reprimand?  Arriving  in  Richmond,  I  made  my  way  to  the 
Navy  Department  at  once,  and,  to  my  surprise,  I  was 
shown  into  the  Secretary's  sanctum  without  delay.  Mr. 
Mallory,  instead  of  receiving  me  with  a  frown,  was  smiling, 
and  if  I  had  not  been  a  midshipman  I  should  really  have 
thought  he  was  glad  to  see  me.  To  my  surprise  he  told  me 
that  I  was  to  accompany  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis  south,  and 
added,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  that  the  daughters 
of  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  were  to  be  of  the  party. 
I  hurried  to  Mr.  Trenholm's  house  with  the  news,  but  no 
one  there  seemed  at  all  surprised.  I  then  went  to  the  Presi- 
dent's mansion,  which  was  only  a  block  away,  and  had  a 
few  words  with  Mrs.  Davis,  who  seemed  to  take  it  as  a 
matter  of  course  that  I  was  to  go  south  with  her.  There 
was  not  the  slightest  appearance  of  excitement  or  prepara- 


Ordered  to  accompany  Mrs.  Davis        229 

tion  for  a  long  journey  about  the  Confederate  executive 
mansion,  and  no  one  would  ever  have  dreamed  that  a 
flight  from  a  doomed  city  was  about  to  take  place. 

Returning  to  Mr.  Trenholm's  house,  I  dined  with  the 
family  and  we  laughed  and  talked;  but  none  of  us  spoke 
of  the  coming  journey.  In  fact  we  young  people  were  in 
blissful  ignorance  concerning  the  momentous  events  about 
to  take  place.  After  all,  there  was  nothing  extraordinary 
about  Mrs.  Davis's  going  south,  for  the  President  had 
frequently  expressed  a  desire  to  have  his  family  go  to 
Charlotte,  North  Carolina,  where  they  would  be  out  of 
the  turmoil  and  excitement  of  their  surroundings  in  Rich- 
mond. So  far  as  I  was  personally  concerned,  I  took  it  for 
granted  that  I  should  return  to  the  front  after  I  had  ful- 
filled my  mission  of  accompanying  the  party  to  their  desti- 
nation. 

It  was  then  the  Friday  preceding  the  fall  of  Richmond, 
and  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  received  the  ex- 
pected word  that  it  was  time  for  us  to  start  for  the  station. 
A  few  minutes  after  we  arrived  there  we  were  joined  by 
Mrs.  Davis,  her  sister,  and  the  children,  escorted  by  Col- 
onel Burton  N.  Harrison,  the  President's  private  secre- 
tary. The  party  arrived  at  the  station  in  an  overloaded 
carriage,  Mrs.  Davis  being  the  fortunate  possessor  of  about 
the  only  pair  of  carriage  horses  in  Richmond.  These  ani- 
mals had  made  some  lucky  escapes  from  being  requisi- 
tioned for  the  army,  as,  owing  to  the  necessities  of  the 
family,  they  had  once  been  sold  and  had  been  bought  by 
two  or  three  gentlemen  and  presented  again  to  Mrs.  Davis, 
only  to  be  seized  shortly  afterwards  by  a  provost  guard 
on  the  street  while  Mrs.  Davis  was  seated  in  the  vehicle. 
President  Davis  would  not  lift  a  finger  to  save  them,  say- 
ing that  other  people's  horses  had  been  pressed  for  service 
in  the  army,  and  he  did  not  see  any  reason  why  his  wife's 
should  not  be  taken  in  the  same  way.  But  again  influen- 
tial friends  persuaded  the  quartermaster  to  send  them  back, 


230   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  their  last  service  to  their  mistress  was  to  start  her  on 
that  memorable  and  eventful  journey. 

There  were  no  Pullman  sleeping-coaches  in  those  days, 
and  it  was  with  great  difficulty  that  an  old  creaky  passenger 
car,  long  a  stranger  to  paint  and  varnish,  had  been  se- 
cured for  the  wife  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  a  nation  of 
some  fifteen  or  twenty  millions  of  people.  We  at  once  en- 
tered the  car  and  seated  ourselves  on  the  lumpy  seats 
which  were  covered  with  dingy  and  threadbare  brownish 
red  plush,  very  suggestive  of  the  vermin  with  which  it 
afterwards  proved  to  be  infested.  The  sleepy  little  chil- 
dren were  laid  on  the  seats  and  made  as  comfortable  as 
possible  under  the  circumstances,  but  they  had  hardly 
closed  their  eyes  before  President  Davis  entered  the  car. 
He  spoke  to  us  all  pleasantly  and  cheerfully,  then  took  a 
seat  beside  his  wife  and  entered  into  conversation  with 
her.  They  talked  earnestly  until  the  signal  for  our  depar- 
ture was  sounded,  but  in  those  days  the  trains  were  not 
run  by  schedule.  You  started  when  the  train  moved  and 
you  arrived  when  you  got  to  your  destination;  that  was 
all  anybody  knew  about  it.  Mr.  Davis  rose  from  his  seat 
at  the  sound  of  the  bell  and  went  from  one  to  the  other 
of  his  children  kissing  them  good-bye;  then  he  bade  fare- 
well to  his  sister-in-law,  Miss  Maggie  Howell,  and  affec- 
tionately embraced  his  wife.  Passing  the  seats  where  sat 
the  Misses  Trenholm  and  myself,  he  gave  us  all  a  friendly 
handshake  and  wished  us  bon  voyage.  He  then  stepped  on 
to  the  platform  closely  followed  by  Colonel  Harrison.  The 
signal  to  start  was  one  of  many  false  alarms,  and  the 
President  and  his  secretary  walked  up  and  down  on  the 
platform  outside,  while  engaged  in  what  appeared  to  us 
onlookers  very  serious  conversation. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  before  our  wheezy  and  feeble  locomo- 
tive gave  a  screech  and  a  jerk  which  started  us  on  our 
journey.  Colonel  Harrison  precipitately  left  his  chief  and 
jumped  on  board  the  moving  train  while   the   President 


Mrs.  Davis  at  Charlotte  231 

waved  a  second  farewell  to  his  loved  ones.  We  proceeded 
at  a  snail's  pace  for  about  twelve  miles  when  suddenly 
we  came  to  a  standstill.  Our  ramshackle  locomotive  had 
balked;  no  amount  of  persuasion  on  the  part  of  the  engi- 
neer could  induce  it  to  haul  us  over  a  slight  up-grade,  and 
we  remained  where  we  were  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 
It  was  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day  when  we  arrived  at 
Burkesville  Junction,  where  Colonel  Harrison  received 
the  news  of  the  battle  between  Generals  Pickett  and 
Sheridan  and  telegraphed  the  information  at  once  to  Presi- 
dent Davis. 

We  did  not  reach  Charlotte  until  Tuesday;  a  journey 
which  to-day  requires  only  six  or  seven  hours,  had  taken 
us  four  days  to  accomplish!  There  was  a  delay  of  two  or 
three  hours  at  Charlotte  and,  while  waiting,  Colonel  Harri- 
son used  the  time  to  go  into  the  city  in  search  of  shelter 
for  Mrs.  Davis  and  her  helpless  family.  The  inhabitants, 
however,  did  not  rush  forward  to  offer  this  lady  in  distress 
hospitality  as  they  might  have  done  a  year  or  two  before 
misfortune  had  overtaken  her.  They  seemed  to  take  it 
for  granted  that  the  end  of  the  Confederacy  was  at  hand, 
although  the  news  of  the  fall  of  Richmond  did  not  reach 
them  until  two  days  after  our  arrival.  Mrs.  Davis  would 
have  been  in  a  sad  plight  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  courage 
and  chivalric  courtesy  of  a  Jewish  gentleman,  a  Mr.  Weil, 
who  hospitably  invited  her  to  stay  at  his  home  until  she 
could  make  other  arrangements.  May  the  God  of  Abra- 
ham, Isaac,  and  Jacob  bless  him  wherever  he  is! 

The  news  of  Mrs.  Davis's  arrival  in  Charlotte  quickly 
spread  through  the  city,  which  by  that  time  was  thronged 
with  stragglers  and  deserters  —  conscripts  —  the  very  scum 
of  the  army,  and  a  mob  of  these  wretches  gathered  round 
the  car  in  which  she  sat.  The  wretches  reviled  her  in  most 
shocking  language.  Colonel  Harrison,  who  had  returned 
from  his  quest  for  lodgings,  and  I  closed  the  open  windows 
of  the  car  so  that  the  ladies  could  not  hear  what  was  being 


232   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

said.  We  two  men  were  helpless  to  protect  them  from  the 
epithets  of  a  crowd  of  some  seventy-five  or  a  hundred 
blackguards,  but  we  stationed  ourselves  at  the  only  door 
which  was  not  locked,  determined  that  they  should  not 
enter  the  car.  Colonel  Harrison  was  unarmed,  and  I  had 
only  my  sword,  and  a  regulation  revolver  in  the  holster 
hanging  from  my  belt.  Several  of  the  most  daring  of  the 
brutes  climbed  up  the  steps,  but  when  Colonel  Harrison 
firmly  told  them  that  he  would  not  permit  them  to  enter 
that  car  the  cowards  slunk  away.  When  the  disturbance 
had  quieted  down  Mrs.  Davis,  her  sister,  and  her  children 
left  the  train,  and  with  the  daughters  of  Mr.  Trenholm  I 
continued  on  to  Abbeville,  South  Carolina,  where  the 
Trenholms  had  previously  engaged  a  pleasant  house.  It 
took  us  two  more  days  to  reach  Abbeville,  and  it  was  not 
until  our  arrival  there  that  we  learned  of  the  fall  of  Rich- 
mond and  that  President  Davis  and  his  Cabinet  were  at 
Danville,  Virginia. 

Mrs.  Davis  remained  for  a  few  days  in  Charlotte,  and 
then  it  was  reported  that  General  Sherman's  army  was 
headed  that  way.  It  was  necessary  for  her  to  seek  some 
haven  of  safety.  She  was  indeed  in  a  forlorn  position,  as 
nobody  wished  to  shelter  her  for  fear  that  the  Union  troops 
would  destroy  their  homes  if  they  did.  Every  road  through 
the  country  was  infested  by  deserters  who  would  have  given 
her  scant  consideration  if  they  had  wanted  anything  she 
possessed,  and  the  only  human  being  she  could  look  to  for 
protection  was  Colonel  Harrison,  who  would  have  stood 
small  chance  of  defending  her  against  the  bands  of  undisci- 
plined shirkers  who  were  traversing  the  country  and  who 
never  hesitated  to  take  what  they  wanted  from  the  weak 
and  helpless.  Just  as  things  looked  most  hopeless  to  this 
unhappy  lady,  the  midshipmen  from  the  schoolship  Patrick 
Henry,  under  the  command  of  Lieutenant  William  H. 
Parker,  arrived  in  Charlotte.  When  Richmond  was  ordered 
to  be  evacuated  the  authorities  almost  forgot  the  midship- 


Midshipmen  guard  Confederacy's  Gold      233 

men,  and  it  was  only  at  the  last  moment  that  Lieutenant 
Parker  received  the  order  to  blow  up  the  "school"  and  make 
the  best  of  his  way  to  Charlotte,  North  Carolina.  The  mid- 
shipmen were  landed  on  the  river-bank  and  as  they  trudged 
toward  Richmond  they  were  saluted  by  the  explosions  of 
the  magazines  not  only  of  their  own  ship,  but  also  of  those 
of  the  Confederate  ironclads  and  wooden  gunboats.  When 
they  arrived  at  the  railway  station  at  Manchester,  across 
the  river  from  Richmond,  they  found  not  only  that  the  sol- 
diers had  left,  but  also  that  no  arrangements  had  been  made 
for  their  transportation.  Here  a  piece  of  good  luck  came 
their  way.  The  Treasury  officials,  with  some  five  hundred 
thousand  dollars  in  gold  and  silver  coin  (all  that  the  Con- 
federacy possessed)  packed  in  kegs,  were  standing  help- 
lessly on  the  platform  alongside  of  a  train  on  which  they 
hoped  to  get  away,  while  a  drunken  mob  was  fast  gathering 
around  them.  Hundreds  of  barrels  of  whiskey  had  been 
stove  in  and  their  contents  had  filled  the  gutters  in  Rich- 
mond, and  this  crowd  of  swine,  after  filling  themselves  with 
the  fiery  liquor  out  of  the  ditches,  became  very  brave,  and 
determined  to  divide  the  assets  of  the  Confederacy  among 
themselves.  The  Treasury  officials  rather  doubtfully  asked 
Lieutenant  Parker  if  he  could  protect  the  treasure,  and  when 
the  little  midshipmen  were  formed  the  mob  commenced  to 
jeer  the  children.  But  something  happened !  —  and  before 
those  ruffians  realized  it,  they  were  all  on  the  outside.  Those 
midshipmen  were  regulars,  and  the  mob  instantly  appreci- 
ated the  fact  that  the  guns  and  bayonets  in  the  hands  of 
those  youngsters  were  going  to  be  used  at  the  word  of  com- 
mand, and  the  scoundrels  were  not  so  drunk  that  they  did 
not  appreciate  the  fact  that  "discretion  was  the  better 
part  of  valor,"  and  they  fled. 

The  Treasury  men  were  so  impressed  by  the  easy  way  in 
which  the  midshipmen  had  handled  the  situation  that  they 
begged  Lieutenant  Parker  to  accompany  the  specie  with 
his  command;  the  money  was  loaded  on  the  train  and  the 


234   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

midshipmen  piled  in  after  it,  and  thus  it  was  that  they 
arrived  at  Charlotte. 

The  little  command  only  had  a  short  breathing  spell  at 
Charlotte,  as  the  enemy  were  fast  approaching  and  there 
was  little  time  for  them  left  in  which  to  make  a  "get  away." 
Lieutenant  Parker  persuaded  Mrs.  Davis  to  trust  herself 
to  the  protection  of  the  midshipmen,  and  they  again  started 
on  their  sad  and  painful  journey.  The  railways  by  this  time 
were  completely  disorganized  and  they  could  only  proceed 
as  far  as  Chester,  South  Carolina,  in  the  cars.  There  Lieuten- 
ant Parker  commandeered  some  wagons  which  he  loaded 
with  the  gold  and  Mrs.  Davis  and  her  family.  They  then 
started  over  the  rough  country  roads  for  Abbeville,  South 
Carolina. 

What  a  distressing  spectacle  this  train  of  three  or  four 
wagons,  hauled  by  broken-down  and  leg-weary  mules,  must 
have  presented,  and  what  must  have  been  the  apprehen- 
sions of  that  stately  and  serene  woman,  the  wife  of  the 
President  of  a  nation  of  Anglo-Saxons,  as  she  sat,  surrounded 
by  her  helpless  children,  on  one  of  these  primitive  vehicles 
while  the  half-starved  animals  slowly  dragged  her  over  the 
weary  miles.  A  platoon  of  the  middies  marched  in  front  of 
the  singular  procession,  acting  as  an  advance  guard.  An- 
other detachment  followed  the  wagons,  serving  as  a  rear 
guard,  and  on  either  side  of  the  train  marched  the  rest  of 
the  youngsters.  And  not  far  away,  on  either  flank  and  in 
their  rear,  hovered  deserters  waiting  either  for  an  oppor- 
tunity or  the  necessary  courage  to  pounce  upon  the,  to 
them,  untold  wealth  which  those  wagons  contained. 

When  night  fell  on  the  first  day  of  their  march,  they 
stopped  at  a  country  roadside  church  which  at  least  af- 
forded shelter  from  the  elements.  Mrs.  Davis,  her  sister, 
and  the  children  slept  on  the  bare  floor,  and  Lieutenant 
Parker,  as  commanding  officer,  rested  in  the  pulpit.  The 
midshipmen  who  were  not  on  guard  duty  lay  down  under 
the  trees  outside,  in  company  with  the  mules. 


President  Davis  and  his  Cabinet         235 

While  Mrs.  Davis  and  her  escort  of  ragged  boys  were 
slowly  plodding  on  their  way,  things  began  to  happen  in  the 
beautiful  village  of  Abbeville,  where  every  residence  was 
surrounded  by  a  garden  and  which  impressed  one  as  a  more 
fitting  setting  for  a  May-day  festival  than  for  the  scene 
of  the  disruption  of  a  government.  First,  Senator  Wigfall, 
the  man  who  had  received  the  surrender  of  Major  Ander- 
son's sword  at  Fort  Sumter,  arrived.  He  was  the  most 
malignant  and  unrelenting  of  all  President  Davis's  political 
enemies.  Before  making  Texas  his  home  he  had  been  a 
resident  of  Abbeville,  and  he  at  once  went  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Armisted  Burt,  an  old  friend,  to  ask  for  hospitality. 
Now  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Burt  had  found  means  to  send 
a  message  to  Mr.  Davis  asking  him,  if  he  passed  through 
Abbeville,  to  make  his,  Mr.  Burt's  house,  his  home.  In  less 
than  forty-eight  hours  after  Mr.  Wigfall's  arrival,  who 
should  appear  at  the  house  but  Mr.  Davis!  Mr.  Burt  was 
placed  in  a  most  embarrassing  position  for  a  few  moments, 
but  Mr.  Wigfall  relieved  the  tension  of  the  situation  by  has- 
tily taking  his  departure  out  of  one  door  as  Mr.  Davis 
entered  the  other. 

The  next  distinguished  persons  to  arrive  were  President 
Davis's  Cabinet,  in  an  ambulance,  with  the  exception  of 
Mr.  Trenholm,  and  the  Secretary  of  War,  General  Breckin- 
ridge, who  preferred  to  ride  on  horseback.  He  made  a  great 
impression  on  me  with  his  superb  figure  mounted  on  a  large 
and  fat  charger,  a  rare  sight  in  those  days.  The  Cabinet 
camped  in  and  around  their  ambulance  which  had  stopped 
in  the  suburbs.  I  visited  their  camp  and  was  somewhat 
surprised  to  see  among  these  serious  and  care-worn-looking 
gentlemen  the  beaming  smile  on  the  round  face  of  the  rotund 
Secretary  of  State,  Mr.  Judah  P.  Benjamin.  He  was  the 
picture  of  amiability  and  contentment.  Mr.  Trenholm,  who 
had  been  taken  seriously  ill  on  the  journey  from  Danville, 
had  been  left  at  a  house  on  the  road.  Mr.  Trenholm  after- 
wards told  me  that  Mr.  Benjamin,  up  to  the  time  he  had 


236   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

left  them,  had  been  the  life  of  the  party  with  his  wonderful 
fund  of  anecdote  which  continuously  rippled  from  his 
mouth  during  the  daytime,  and  when  the  shades  of  evening 
fell,  and  a  more  serious  mood  came  over  him,  he  would  hold 
his  small  but  distinguished  audience  spellbound  by  repeat- 
ing poetry  from  the  apparently  exhaustless  storehouse  of 
his  memory.  Mr.  Trenholm  also  told  me  that  he  felt  cer- 
tain that  Mr.  Benjamin  had  at  the  time  secreted  in  his  valise 
(which  was  a  sort  of  Aladdin's  lamp  from  which  he  could 
instantly  produce  anything  that  was  needed)  a  complete 
disguise  with  which  he  intended  to  make  his  escape  from  his 
pursuers  —  and  such  indeed  proved  to  be  the  fact.  Through- 
out this  whole  trying  journey  Mr.  Benjamin  smoked  most 
fragrant  Havana  cigars,  much  to  the  astonishment  of  his 
companions  who  wondered  where  he  could  have  obtained 
such  an  unlimited  supply  of  such  a  rare  luxury. 

Then  Mrs.  Davis  arrived  with  her  ragged  and  mud- 
stained  escort,  most  of  whom  by  this  time  were  walking  on 
their  "uppers,"  or  the  bare  soles  of  their  poor  bruised  feet. 
On  arriving  at  Mr.  Burt's  house  she  expressed  to  her  host  a 
fear  that  his  home  would  be  destroyed  by  the  Union  troops 
when  they  learned  that  she  had  been  sheltered  there.  The 
grand  old  Southern  aristocrat  made  her  a  profound  bow  and 
replied,  "Madam,  I  know  of  no  better  use  my  house  could 
be  put  to  than  to  be  burned  for  such  a  cause." 

One  of  Mrs.  Davis's  children  was  quite  ill,  and  it  was  sent 
over  to  the  Trenholms'  house  where  it  could  be  made  more 
comfortable,  as  Mr.  Burt's  home  was  crowded  with  guests. 

The  midshipmen  pushed  on  to  Augusta,  Georgia,  some 
eighty  miles  away,  seeking  for  a  safe  place  to  deposit  the 
treasure,  and  on  their  arrival  were  told  to  get  out  of  there  as 
quickly  as  possible,  as  Sherman's  men  were  expected  at  any 
moment;  so  back  they  trudged  to  Abbeville  where  the  Sec- 
retary of  the  Navy  ordered  them  to  be  disbanded.  These 
boys,  averaging  between  fourteen  and  eighteen  years  of  age, 
some  of  them  nearly  a  thousand  miles  from  their  homes,  the 


President  Davis  at  Abbeville  237 

railroads  destroyed,  and  the  country  filled  with  lawless  men, 
were  turned  loose  to  shift  for  themselves.  The  money  was 
turned  over  to  the  care  of  the  soldiers.  They  took  such  care 
of  it  that  unto  this  day  never  a  dollar  of  it  has  been  traced ! 
The  lie  that  was  circulated  about  Mr.  Davis  having  got 
any  of  it  was  afterwards  disproved  by  the  poverty  in  which 
he  and  his  wife  lived  and  died. 

While  Mr.  Davis  was  at  Abbeville  a  very  unpleasant  in- 
cident took  place  which  those  who  were  present  and  after- 
wards wrote  accounts  of  his  flight  from  Richmond  have 
avoided  mentioning,  I  suppose  because  it  was  not  to  the 
credit  of  some  of  the  Confederate  soldiers.  In  the  moun- 
tains of  North  and  South  Carolina  near  the  Tennessee  line 
there  were  bands  of  bandits  who  called  themselves  "guer- 
rillas." A  false  report  reached  Mr.  Davis  to  the  effect  that 
these  brigands,  learning  that  a  large  amount  of  gold  was 
being  taken  through  the  country  protected  only  by  a  few 
little  boys,  had  made  a  sudden  descent  from  their  mountain 
fastnesses  and  were  rapidly  approaching  Abbeville.  On 
receiving  this  report  Mr.  Davis  mounted  his  horse  and  rode 
out  to  a  camp  where  some  of  the  soldiers  were  bivouacked. 
The  soldiers  were  drawn  up  to  receive  him  and  he  made 
them  a  short  address  —  very  short.  He  told  them  of  the 
report  about  the  guerrillas,  and  also  told  them  that  both 
General  Sherman  and  General  Johnston  attacked  this  band 
wherever  they  found  them  on  account  of  the  many  atroci- 
ties they  had  been  guilty  of  against  both  Union  men  and 
Confederates,  and  wound  up  his  talk  by  asking  the  men  if 
they  would  go  out  with  him  to  attack  those  robbers  and 
murderers.  As  he  paused  for  a  reply,  a  private  pushed  his 
horse  to  the  front  and  said:  "Our  lives  are  just  as  precious 
to  us  as  yours  is  to  you.  The  war  is  over  and  we  are  going 
home!"  And  without  the  slightest  semblance  of  order  the 
gang  —  I  can  call  them  nothing  else  —  dispersed,  leaving 
those  few  gallant  and  loyal  fellows  who  accompanied  Mr. 
Davis  until  he  was  captured. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

President  Davis  departs  from  Abbeville  —  I  carry  a  communication  to 
General  Fry  at  Augusta,  Georgia  —  United  States  troops  occupy  Abbeville  — 
We  bury  the  silver  chests  —  Paroled  at  Washington,  Georgia  —  Accompany 
Mr.  Trenholm  to  Columbia,  where  he  buys  a  home  —  Mr.  Wagner,  of  Fraser, 
Trenholm  &  Co.,  pays  to  avoid  arrest  in  Charleston,  and  Mr.  Trenholm  is  ar- 
rested in  Columbia  —  Placed  in  the  common  jail  —  Mrs.  King  hides  the  gold 
under  the  Federal  commander's  nose  —  General  Gillmore,  U.S.A.,  treats  Mr. 
Trenholm  magnanimously. 

Before  Mr.  Davis  left  Abbeville  I  begged  him  to  allow 
me  to  accompany  him,  but  he  told  me  that  it  would  be 
impossible,  as  I  had  no  horse,  and  that  it  was  not  in  his 
power  to  procure  me  one.  He  spoke  to  me  in  the  most 
fatherly  way,  saying  that  as  soon  as  things  quieted  down 
somewhat  I  must  make  my  way  to  the  trans- Mississippi, 
where  we  still  had  an  army  and  two  or  three  small  gun- 
boats on  the  Red  River,  and  in  the  mean  time  he  would 
give  me  a  letter  to  General  Fry,  commanding  at  Augusta, 
asking  him  to  attach  me  temporarily  to  his  staff.  He  also 
gave  me  an  official  communication  for  General  Fry  and 
instructed  me  to  try  and  get  transportation  by  some  wagon 
going  in  that  direction. 

I  watched  Mr.  Davis  as  he  mounted  his  horse,  bade  him 
good-bye,  and  stood  looking  after  him  as  he  took  the  road 
which  led  to  Washington,  Georgia.  That  was  the  last 
time  I  ever  saw  him. 

Hearing  of  a  farmer  who  had  an  old  broken-kneed,  spa- 
vined white  horse  hid  in  the  swamp,  I  soon  made  a  deal 
with  him  by  which  I  became  the  owner  of  the  equine  frame 
and  he  the  possessor  of  several  thousand  dollars  in  Con- 
federate money  which  he  believed  some  day  in  the  vague 
future  would  have  a  value.  I  then  went  to  Augusta,  and 
when  I  gave  General  Fry  the  document  Mr.  Davis  had 
entrusted  me  with  (the  contents  of  which  I  never  learned)  I 
believe  I  delivered  the  last  official  communication  Presi- 


"Sherman's  Bummers"  239 

dent  Davis  ever  sent   to  a  general   of   the   Confederate 
Army. 

In  Augusta  I  remained  only  two  or  three  days.  Every 
one  realized  that  the  end  of  the  Confederacy  had  come  so 
far  as  they  were  concerned,  and  people  were  flying  from 
the  city  not  knowing  where  they  were  going  —  only  anx- 
ious to  escape  from  the  place  they  were  in. 

General  Fry  advised  me  to  return  to  Abbeville,  as  I  had 
friends  there,  and  being  of  no  possible  use  where  I  was,  I 
accepted  his  kindly  counsel  and  returned. 

The  soldiers  who  had  accompanied  Mr.  Davis  had  not 
surrendered  at  Appomattox,  but  now  there  was  a  stream 
of  paroled  men,  and  men  who  had  deserted  before  the  end 
came  in  Virginia,  passing  through  the  once  peaceful  town. 
While  these  men  committed  no  outrages  when  they  went 
into  a  private  house  to  ask  for  food  or  shelter,  they  adopted 
a  threatening  attitude  which  was  very  offensive.  Fortu- 
nately a  younger  brother  of  Mrs.  William  L.  Trenholm,  a 
lieutenant  in  the  South  Carolina  regulars,  arrived,  and  while 
we  could  not  prevent  the  crowds  of  hungry  men  from  swarm- 
ing over  the  lower  floors  of  the  house,  where  although  not 
invited,  they  made  themselves  very  much  at  home,  we 
could  and  did  keep  them  from  invading  the  upper  portion 
of  the  home  where  the  ladies  secluded  themselves. 

When  the  danger  from  our  own  men  had  passed,  owing 
to  their  hurried  exit  from  the  town,  we  had  immediately 
to  prepare  for  another.  Sherman's  men  were  very  near 
and  were  fast  approaching,  and  the  inhabitants  were  in 
mortal  terror  of  the  lawless  crew  known  as  "Sherman's 
bummers,"  who  rode  on  the  flanks  of  his  army,  accounts 
of  whose  fiendish  outrages  were  on  every  tongue. 

While  we  noticed  no  change  in  the  demeanor  of  the 
slaves,  still  we  had  no  means  of  knowing  what  their  atti- 
tude would  be  when  the  Union  troops  entered  the  place, 
and  this  uncertainty  caused  us  some  anxiety. 

In  the  house  were  two  large  and  very  heavy  chests  of 


240        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

silver  which  Lieutenant  Macbeth  (Mrs.  W.  L.  Trenholm's 
brother)  and  I  determined  to  attempt  to  save  by  burying 
it.  We  were  afraid  to  take  any  of  the  negroes  into  our  con- 
fidence, so  we  determined  to  do  the  work  ourselves.  We 
waited  until  midnight  when  every  one  on  the  premises  was 
supposed  to  be  asleep,  and  then,  carrying  our  spades,  we 
stealthily  stole  into  the  garden  and  proceeded  to  dig  two 
large  graves.  The  night  was  well  suited  for  our  work,  as 
there  was  a  moon  but  it  was  somewhat  obscured  by  clouds. 
When  we  had  finished  our  task  we  entered  the  house  and 
by  great  exertion  managed  to  carry  out  the  chests  and 
bury  them.  As  soon  as  they  were  covered  with  earth,  it 
was  evident,  even  in  the  dark,  that  the  newly  upturned 
ground  would  betray  us.  There  was  nothing  left  to  do  but 
to  dig  up  the  entire  garden  if  our  hiding-place  was  not  to 
attract  the  attention  of  the  first  passer-by,  and  this  we  at 
once  proceeded  to  do.  It  was  no  light  job,  as  the  garden 
must  have  comprised  nearly  an  eighth  of  an  acre,  and 
daylight  came  while  the  task  was  still  uncompleted.  I 
suddenly  looked  up  from  my  work  and  there,  to  my  con- 
sternation, I  saw  "Nat,"  Mrs.  Trenholm's  butler,  the  slave 
whose  loyalty  to  the  family  we  had  grave  doubts  about, 
leaning  against  the  fence,  on  the  top  of  which  his  arms  were 
resting  while  he  calmly  watched  what  we  were  doing.  I 
asked  him  how  long  he  had  been  there,  and  he  frankly  re- 
plied: "I'se  been  here  ever  since  you  gentlemen  started 
work."  I  then  asked  him  why  he  had  not  offered  to  help 
us,  and  he  said  it  was  because  he  thought  we  did  not  want 
any  one  to  know  what  we  were  doing.  Naturally  it  was  too 
late  to  make  any  other  disposition  of  the  silver,  and  we 
felt  sure  that  it  would  be  lost.  That  morning  the  advance 
guard  of  the  Federals  entered  the  village.  Two  or  three  sol- 
diers came  to  the  house  and  I  saw  "Nat"  (standing  over 
the  very  spot  where  the  silver  was  buried)  talking  to  them. 
Of  course  we  expected  a  demand  would  be  made  for  spades, 
but,  be  it  said  to  "Nat's"  honor,  he  never  betrayed  us. 


Paroled  at  Washington,  Georgia         241 

A  few  years  after  this  incident  occurred,  I  met  "Nat"  in 
Columbia.  He  was  then  a  member  of  the  legislature  and 
one  of  our  lawmakers!  The  Union  soldiers  did  not  molest 
us  in  any  way,  and  much  to  our  astonishment  who  should 
drive  up  to  the  house  but  "Daddy"  Peter,  Mr.  Trenholm's 
old  negro  coachman,  with  the  landau  and  its  handsome 
pair  of  bays.  "Daddy"  Peter,  on  the  approach  of  Sher- 
man's army  to  Columbia,  had  fled  to  the  swamp  with  his 
cherished  horses  and  hidden  them  until  the  danger  of  their 
being  seized  had  passed.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Trenholm 
next  arrived,  Mr.  Trenholm  being  still  quite  ill.  Nobody 
seemed  disposed  to  molest  him,  although  the  Federal  au- 
thorities knew  of  his  presence  in  the  town. 

Major  Julian  Mitchel  unexpectedly  arrived  at  the 
house  and  informed  us  that  all  Confederate  officers  who 
had  not  been  paroled  were  being  arrested  and  treated  with 
a  great  deal  of  harshness.  As  there  was  no  officer  of  the 
United  States  Army  authorized  to  parole  us  nearer  than 
Washington,  Georgia,  forty  miles  away,  Colonel  Tren- 
holm, Major  Mitchel,  and  myself  got  into  Mr.  Trenholm's 
carriage  at  daylight  the  next  morning  and  drove  to  Wash- 
ington, Georgia,  where  we  were  most  affably  received  by 
Captain  Lott  Abraham,  U.S.A.,  who  took  our  paroles 
and  gave  us  each,  for  our  own  protection,  a  certificate 
that  we  had  been  paroled. 

In  the  evening  Major  Mitchel  went  to  call  on  friends 
who  resided  in  the  town,  and  Colonel  Trenholm  and  I  paid 
a  visit  at  the  house  of  Judge  Andrews,  one  of  the  most 
prominent  residents  of  the  place,  and  a  consistent  Union 
man,  although  his  whole  family  were  ardent  "rebs."  One 
of  the  judge's  daughters,  Miss  Eliza  Frances  Andrews,  kept 
a  diary  in  those  days  which  was  afterwards  published  in 
191 1  under  the  title  of  "Wartime  Journal  of  a  Georgia 
Girl";  and  in  it  she  makes  the  following  mention  of  our 
visit :  — 


242    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

May  1 6,  1865  —  Two  delightful  visitors  after  tea,  Colonel 
Trenholm  (son  of  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury)  and  Mr.  Morgan, 
of  the  navy,  who  is  to  marry  his  sister. 

The  news  this  evening  is  that  we  have  all  got  to  take  the  oath 
of  allegiance  before  getting  married.  This  horrid  law  aroused 
much  talk  in  our  rebellious  circle,  and  the  gentlemen  laughed  very 
much  when  Cora  said,  "Talk  about  dying  for  your  country,  but 
what  is  that  to  being  an  old  maid  for  it?" 

The  chief  thought  of  our  men  is  how  to  embroil  the  United 
States  either  in  foreign  or  internal  commotions,  so  that  we  can 
rebel  again.  They  all  say  that  if  the  Yankees  had  given  us  any 
sort  of  tolerable  terms  they  would  submit  quietly,  though  unwill- 
ingly, to  the  inevitable;  but  if  they  carry  out  the  abominable 
programme  of  which  flying  rumors  reach  us,  extermination  itself 
will  be  better  than  submission.  Garnett  says  that  if  it  comes  to 
the  worst,  he  can  turn  bushwhacker;  and  we  all  came  to  the  con- 
clusion that  if  this  kind  of  peace  continues,  bushwhacking  will  be 
the  most  respectable  occupation  a  man  can  engage  in.  Mr. 
Morgan  said,  with  a  lugubrious  smile,  that  his  "most  ambitious 
hope  now  is  to  get  himself  hanged  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Possibly,  if  Miss  Andrews  had  ever  read  President  Lin- 
coln's proclamation  ordering  all  persons  who  had  engaged 
in  preying  on  American  commerce,  when  captured,  to  be 
treated  as  pirates,1  she  would  not  have  thought  that  re- 
mark so  amusing.  It  was  fortunate  for  me  that  none  of 
the  Federal  officers  in  the  neighborhood  knew  that  I  had 
been  engaged  in  that  business.  As  it  was,  when  the  am- 
nesty proclamation  was  issued,  I  found  myself  excepted 
under  three  separate  headings,  namely:  Having  been  at  the 

1  .  .  .  And  I  hereby  proclaim  and  declare  that  if  any  person,  under  the  pre- 
tended authority  of  the  said  States,  or  under  any  other  pretense,  shall  molest 
a  vessel  of  the  United  States,  or  the  persons  or  cargo  on  board  of  her,  such 
person  shall  be  held  amenable  to  the  laws  of  the  United  States  for  the  preven- 
tion and  punishment  of  piracy. 

In  witness  whereof  I  have  hereunto  set  my  hand  and  caused  the  seal  of  the 
United  States  to  be  affixed. 

Done  at  the  city  of  Washington  this  19th  day  of  April,  a.d.  1861,  and  of  the 
Independence  of  the  United  States  the  eighty-fifth. 

fL-s-l  Abraham  Lincoln. 

By  the  President. 

William  H.  Seward,  Secretary  of  Stale. 


Abbeville  243 

United  States  Military  or  Naval  Academy  —  being  worth 
more  than  twenty  thousand  dollars  —  and  having  preyed 
on  American  commerce. 

In  Abbeville  provisions  were  very  scarce,  and  the  farm- 
ers who  did  have  a  few  vegetables  and  chickens,  of  course 
would  not  part  with  them  for  worthless  Confederate  money. 
Probably  the  only  gold  in  the  place  was  in  Mr.  Trenholm's 
house,  and  there  was  not  a  coin  in  the  lot  of  less  value  than 
a  twenty-dollar  gold-piece,  and  of  course  nobody  could 
change  such  a  sum  as  that.  But  fortunately  the  family 
owned  stock  in  the  Graniteville  Mills,  which  manufactory 
declared  dividends  in  cotton  cloth.  Mr.  Alexander  Mac- 
beth and  I  would  take  a  bolt  of  this  cloth  and  put  it  into 
the  carriage  and  drive  into  the  country  away  off  the  usual 
routes  of  travel,  stopping  at  farmhouses,  where  we  had  no 
difficulty  in  exchanging  a  few  yards  of  it  for  anything  in 
the  way  of  edibles  the  farmers  possessed.  Mr.  Macbeth 
afterwards  married  Miss  Eliza,  one  of  Mr.  Trenholm's 
daughters. 

The  United  States  army  officers  stationed  at  Abbeville 
showed  no  disposition  to  molest  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  their 
ignoring  of  his  presence  there  lulled  us  into  a  false  feeling 
of  security  concerning  the  Government's  intentions  con- 
cerning him,  from  which  we  were  later  to  have  a  rude 
awakening. 

The  house  in  Abbeville  was  small  for  such  a  large  family, 
and  with  the  idea  of  giving  young  Mrs.  Trenholm  and  her 
little  children  more  room,  Mr.  Trenholm  decided  to  go  to 
Columbia  to  see  if  he  could  not  get  a  more  commodious 
house.  Mr.  Trenholm's  beautiful  villa  in  the  suburbs  had 
been  destroyed  when  Columbia  was  burned,  but  there  were 
still  left  in  the  city  a  few  residences  forming  a  sort  of 
fringe  around  the  outskirts  of  the  once  beautiful  little  city. 

With  two  portmanteaus,  one  of  which  contained  a  large 
sum  of  gold,  Mr.  Trenholm  and  I  entered  his  carriage 
soon  after  dark  and  started  on  the  long  drive  to  Columbia. 


244   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

We  were  compelled  to  go  by  carriage,  as  the  railroads 
had  been  destroyed,  the  fat-pine  cross- ties  burned  to  heat 
the  rails,  and  the  red-hot  rails  wrapped  around  the  trees 
growing  near  the  track.  We  used  to  call  these  iron  rails 
"Sherman's  neckties,"  and  the  solemn-looking  chimneys 
standing  guard  over  the  former  sites  of  once  happy  homes 
were  called  by  the  natives  "Sherman's  monuments." 

Arriving  at  Columbia  we  were  hospitably  entertained  by 
Mr.  William  Ford  De  Saussure,  who  was  then  living  in  the 
residence  formerly  occupied  by  the  president  of  the  South 
Carolina  College  and  which  stands  to  this  day  on  the  college 
campus.  Mr.  De  Saussure's  home  had  shared  the  fate  of 
most  of  the  houses  of  the  city  during  the  conflagration. 

It  was  found  impossible  to  rent  a  house,  but  Mr.  Tren- 
holm  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  gentleman  who  was  anx- 
ious to  sell  his  home,  a  large  and  comfortable  one,  for  gold, 
as  he  wished  to  leave  the  State.  The  people  had  not  as  yet 
become  accustomed  to  the  greenback  currency  of  their  con- 
querors and  looked  askance  at  it.  The  house  was  bought, 
and  the  family  moved  to  Columbia  where  they  lived  for 
some  weeks  in  peace  and  comfort  until  an  unfortunate 
episode  occurred  in  Charleston. 

Mr.  Theodore  Wagner,  who  was  one  of  Mr.  Trenholm's 
partners,  and  whose  first  wife  was  a  sister  of  Mr.  Trenholm, 
was  a  most  generous  man  who  wore  his  purse  on  his  sleeve 
at  the  service  of  any  who  cared  to  use  it.  He  was  also  a 
highly  nervous  and  timid  man.  Learning  of  the  reputation 
he  had  for  wealth  and  timidity,  the  provost  marshal  of 
Charleston  sent  one  of  his  employees  with  a  message  to  the 
effect  that  he  was  going  to  arrest  Mr.  Wagner  on  the  charge 
of  treason,  and  the  agent  confidentially  informed  the  un- 
happy gentleman  that  he,  the  agent,  had  great  influence 
with  the  provost  marshal  and  that  for  a  trifling  sum  of  ten 
thousand  dollars  judiciously  used  he  thought  he  could  save 
Mr.  Wagner  from  the  ignominy  and  discomfort  incidental 
to  a  long  sojourn  in  a  dirty  jail,  as  well  as  an  expensive  trial 


Mr.  Trenholm  is  arrested  245 

for  treason,  a  crime  the  punishment  for  which  was  death. 
Badly  frightened,  Mr.  Wagner  hurriedly  produced  the 
money,  and  was  left  in  peace. 

Laughing  in  their  sleeves,  the  officials  decided  that  if  a 
junior  member  of  the  firm  of  Fraser,  Trenholm  &  Co.  could 
be  so  easily  separated  from  such  a  large  sum  of  money,  un- 
told wealth  might  be  obtained  from  the  head  of  the  house, 
especially  as  that  head  had  been  a  member  of  Jefferson 
Davis's  Cabinet.  So  one  sad  day  the  colonel  in  command 
at  Columbia  sent  for  Mr.  Trenholm  and  told  the  old  gentle- 
man that  he  regretted  to  say  that  he  had  received  orders 
from  the  commanding  officer  at  Charleston  to  arrest  him 
and  send  him  forthwith  to  that  city.  The  colonel  was  very 
courteous  and  told  Mr.  Trenholm  that  if  he  would  give  his 
word  to  report  to  the  commanding  general  in  Charleston 
without  delay,  he  (the  colonel)  would  not  place  him  under 
restraint  or  send  him  there  under  guard.  Mr.  Trenholm 
thanked  him  for  his  consideration  and  of  course  gladly  gave 
the  required  promise. 

That  night  Mr.  Trenholm  and  I,  carrying  two  portman- 
teaus, in  one  of  which  he  had  placed  a  very  large  sum  in 
twenty-dollar  gold-pieces,  entered  his  carriage  and  we  drove 
to  Orangeburg,  about  forty  miles  away  where  we  could  take 
a  train,  as  the  railway  between  Orangeburg  and  Charleston 
had  not  been  destroyed.  When  we  arrived  at  the  station  in 
Charleston  we  were  shocked  at  seeing  a  company  of  negro 
soldiers  drawn  up  on  the  platform  waiting  for  Mr.  Tren- 
holm. As  the  train  came  to  a  stop  the  white  captain  of  the 
colored  company  boarded  the  car  and  walking  brusquely 
up  to  the  old  white-haired  gentleman  demanded  to  know  if 
his  name  was  Trenholm.  On  being  answered  in  the  affirma- 
tive, he  ordered  Mr.  Trenholm  to  come  with  him.  I  followed 
Mr.  Trenholm  closely,  and  when  we  stepped  on  to  the  plat- 
form the  officer  demanded  to  know  who  I  was,  and  Mr. 
Trenholm  assured  him  I  was  only  a  young  friend  of  his  who 
had  accompanied  him  on  the  journey  from  Columbia;  but 


246   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

the  satrap  was  taking  no  chances,  and  as  the  soldiers  closed 
in  around  us,  he  ordered  me  to  "fall  in,"  telling  me  I  could 
explain  at  the  jail.  This  was  indeed  a  shock,  as  I  had  thought 
that  of  course  a  man  of  Mr.  Trenholm's  position  would  first 
be  taken  before  the  commanding  general.  It  was  a  long  and 
rough  march  over  the  rough  cobblestones  on  some  streets 
and  through  the  mud  of  those  which  were  not  paved.  There 
were  negro  soldiers  in  front  of  us  and  on  either  side,  and 
behind  us.  One  would  have  imagined  that  we  were  two 
desperate  criminals  from  the  way  all  possible  escape  was 
guarded  against.  Arriving  at  the  jail  I  of  course  followed,  or 
attempted  to  follow,  Mr.  Trenholm  through  the  door,  as  I 
took  it  for  granted  I  was  expected  to  do,  but  a  gruff  voice 
called  out,  "Stop  that  man!"  and  instantly  a  brutal  negro 
soldier  reversed  his  musket  and  with  the  butt  struck  me  a 
fearful  blow  in  the  pit  of  my  stomach.  I  staggered  across 
the  sidewalk  and  sat  down  on  the  curb  where  in  my  agony 
I  vomited  blood.  Had  I  been  an  injured  dog  less  notice 
could  not  have  been  taken  of  me  than  was  shown  by  the 
negro  soldiers.  After  sitting  with  my  feet  in  the  gutter  for 
some  time,  with  a  great  effort,  I  stood  up,  and  as  no  one 
objected  I  staggered  away  from  the  accursed  place.  I  had 
been  warned  not  to  go  near  Mr.  Wagner's  house  for  fear  of 
complications;  it  was  therefore  necessary  for  me  to  find  a 
place  where  I  could  stay,  and  after  a  long  and  weary  walk 
I  saw  a  sign  in  a  window  in  Calhoun  Street  announcing 
"Rooms  for  Rent."  I  engaged  a  room  on  condition  that  I 
would  produce  my  baggage  before  I  occupied  it,  and  having 
Mr.  Trenholm's  checks  and  keys  for  his  baggage,  after  a 
short  rest  I  started  out  again  to  walk  to  the  station  to  get 
the  two  heavy  portmanteaus.  There  were  no  cabs  in  the 
place,  so  I  hired  a  man  with  a  wheelbarrow,  and  placing  the 
portmanteaus  on  it  I  trudged  alongside  until  they  were 
unloaded  at  my  new  place  of  abode.  I  did  not  know  the 
people  who  lived  in  the  house  and  I  was  afraid  to  leave  the 
room  while  all  that  gold  was  in  one  of  the  frail  pieces  of  lug- 


Mr.  Trenholm  in  the  Common  Jail        247 

gage.  I  felt  sick  and  weary  and  had  no  appetite,  so  I  was 
well  content  to  go  supperless  to  bed. 

The  next  morning  I  had  to  take  chances  and  go  out,  for 
two  reasons,  first,  because  it  was  necessary  for  me  to  get 
some  information  as  to  how  I  could  manage  to  see  Mr. 
Trenholm,  and  secondly,  on  account  of  the  fact  that  the 
people  of  the  house  declined  to  furnish  me  with  meals.  I 
started  out  with  the  intention  of  trying  to  find  some  officer 
of  the  regular  army,  as  I  felt  assured  that  when  I  told  such 
a  one  that  I  only  wanted  to  talk  to  Mr.  Trenholm  about 
private  family  affairs  he  would  assist  me.  But  I  was  even 
more  fortunate  than  I  had  dared  to  hope,  I  ran  into  the 
arms  of  a  naval  ensign  who  had  been  a  classmate  and  cap- 
tain of  my  gun's  crew  on  the  old  frigate  Constitution  when 
I  was  a  midshipman  at  Annapolis !  He  was  a  big  fellow  by 
the  name  of  Dichman  and  he  was  then  on  the  admiral's 
staff.  As  he  threw  his  arms  around  me  he  exclaimed,  "Well, 
Little  Morgan,  I  have  caught  you  at  last!  What  can  I  do 
for  you?"  I  told  him  of  my  trouble  and  how  necessary  it 
was  for  me  to  see  my  friend,  who  was  in  the  jail,  and  he  said 
he  thought  he  could  manage  it  for  me,  and  he  did. 

WThen  I  entered  the  jail  with  my  permit  I  found  Mr. 
Trenholm  confined  in  a  felon's  cell  which  had  only  lately 
been  vacated  by  a  convicted  murderer  who  had  been  re- 
leased when  the  general  jail  delivery  took  place  on  the  fall 
of  Charleston.  The  only  thing  Mr.  Trenholm  had  to  sleep 
on  was  the  dirty  straw  this  wretch  had  left  behind  him. 

While  I  was  in  the  cell  the  door  was  left  open  and  the 
sentry  paced  up  and  down  in  the  corridor.  Mr.  Trenholm 
found  occasion  to  whisper  to  me  quickly  that  he  wanted  me 
to  find  Mrs.  Henry  King  and  ask  her  to  take  charge  of  the 
gold  and  keep  it  safely  for  him.  Mr.  Trenholm  was  the 
trustee  of  Mrs.  King's  small  estate;  he  had  been  a  friend  of 
her  father,  Mr.  James  L.  Pettigrew,  a  lawyer  of  national 
reputation,  and  a  famous  wit.  Mr.  Pettigrew  had  been  a 
consistent  Union  man.    He  had  died  during  the  war,  and 


248   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

among  his  friends,  when  living,  he  had  numbered  Abraham 
Lincoln,  President  of  the  United  States,  and  when  Charles- 
ton was  captured  Mr.  Lincoln  had  instructed  the  military 
and  naval  authorities  in  the  city  to  afford  Mr.  Pettigrew's 
family  every  protection  and  to  show  them  every  attention. 

Mrs.  King  was  a  young  and  beautiful  widow;  also  an 
authoress  of  some  local  renown ;  but  she  was  more  famed  for 
her  powers  of  witty  repartee  than  she  was  for  either  her 
beauty,  which  was  great,  or  her  literary  efforts.  It  was  of 
this  lady  that  the  story  was  told  about  the  novelist  Thack- 
eray. When  he  visited  America,  and  was  presented  to  her, 
he  boorishly  said,  "I  am  glad  to  meet  you  Mrs.  King,  for  I 
have  heard  that  you  are  the  fastest  lady  received  in  society 
in  Charleston";  and  Mrs.  King  replied,  "I  also  heard  that 
you  were  a  gentleman  —  we  have  both  been  misinformed!" 

It  was  nearly  nine  o'clock  at  night  when  I  found  Mrs. 
King's  house  and  sent  in  my  name,  as  I  had  no  card.  The 
servant  left  the  front  door  open  and  I  could  plainly  see  in 
the  brightly  lighted  parlor  a  number  of  army  and  navy 
officers  in  their  blue  uniforms.  Suddenly  there  appeared  in 
the  hall  a  vision  of  loveliness  in  a  white  muslin  dress  who 
asked  in  a  soft  and  musical  voice  what  my  business  was.  I 
told  her,  in  almost  a  whisper,  that  I  had  come  from  Mr. 
Trenholm  with  a  request,  and  she  hastily  put  her  forefinger 
to  her  pretty  lips  and  made  a  sign  to  follow  her.  She  led  me 
to  the  end  of  the  hall,  and  there  I  whispered  to  her  what 
Mr.  Trenholm  wanted  her  to  do,  and  she  told  me  at  once  to 
go  and  get  the  gold  and  bring  it  to  her.  She  seemed  some- 
what surprised  when  I  told  her  it  was  heavy  and  that  as  it 
would  not  be  safe  for  any  one  to  walk  through  the  streets 
at  that  hour  with  a  valise,  as  there  were  no  policemen  and 
outrages  were  occurring  every  night,  I  would  have  to  bring 
it  in  my  pockets  and  make  several  trips  before  I  could  de- 
liver it  all  into  her  keeping. 

In  about  half  an  hour  I  returned  to  the  house  and  the 
manservant  who  received  me,  chuckling  with  laughter  for 


Mrs.  King  hides  the  Gold  249 

some  reason,  showed  me  the  way  to  the  back  door  where  I 
waited  for  a  moment  while  Mrs.  King  excused  herself  to  her 
guests  before  coming  to  meet  me.  She  led  the  way  upstairs 
to  her  bedroom,  and  directing  me  to  help  her  we  pulled  off 
the  coverings  of  a  bed  that  was  dainty  enough  to  be  the 
resting-place  of  a  fairy.  We  then  rolled  back  the  upper  mat- 
tress and  I  began  to  unload  the  yellow  double  eagles.  The 
breast  and  tail  pockets  of  my  coat  were  filled  with  the 
handsome  coins,  as  also  were  my  vest  pockets,  my  trousers 
and  hip-pockets,  and  while  I  was  thus  engaged  the  beautiful 
lady,  standing  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  bed,  was  engaged 
in  spreading  them  over  the  lower  mattress.  We  then  re- 
placed the  upper  mattress,  and  I  could  not  help  but  laugh 
when  I  realized  the  extraordinary  situation  in  which  I  found 
myself,  assisting  a  strange  lady  in  the  making-up  of  her  bed ! 
Mrs.  King  was  laughing,  too,  but  for  a  different  reason.  Her 
cause  of  merriment  was  so  good  that  she  could  not  keep  it 
to  herself.  Everybody  knew  that  Mr.  Wagner  had  paid  ten 
thousand  dollars  to  keep  from  being  arrested  when  nobody 
had  any  intention  of  arresting  him,  and  Mrs.  King's  joke 
was  that  the  provost  marshal,  who  had  scared  Mr.  Wagner 
out  of  the  money,  and  the  commanding  general,  were  both 
present  among  her  guests  downstairs. 

It  was  late  when  I  finished  my  last  trip  and  had  assisted 
Mrs.  King  in  secreting  the  last  coin,  and  her  other  guests 
had  long  since  taken  their  departure.  Mrs.  King  informed 
me  that  she  had  utilized  one  of  my  temporary  absences  by 
cajoling  the  commanding  officer  into  giving  her  a  permit  to 
visit  Mr.  Trenholm  in  the  jail,  and  she  appeared  there  early 
the  next  morning. 

The  day  after  Mr.  Trenholm  was  incarcerated,  the  com- 
manding general  sent  a  carriage  to  the  jail,  and  Mr.  Tren- 
holm, accompanied  this  time  by  a  white  officer,  was  placed 
in  it  and  driven  to  headquarters.  The  general  received  him 
in  his  private  office,  and  at  first  was  very  courteous,  but 
changed   his  attitude  before  the  interview   closed.     Mr. 


250        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Trenholm  told  me  that  the  first  thing  the  general  said  to 
him  was,  "Mr.  Trenholm,  I  suppose  that  you  know  you 
were  arrested  by  my  orders  and  that  I  am  the  only  man 
who  can  release  you."  Mr.  Trenholm  said  that  he  replied, 
"I  am  very  sorry  to  hear  you  say  that."  And  on  being 
asked  by  the  general  why  he  was  sorry,  Mr.  Trenholm 
told  him  that  it  was  because  he  now  realized  that  it  would 
be  useless  for  him  to  hope  to  be  set  free,  for  he  said  to  the 
general,  "If  you  had  any  intention  to  free  me  without  the 
payment  of  money,  you  would  never  have  had  me  arrested, 
and  as  I  regard  it  as  disgraceful  to  offer  a  bribe  as  to  accept 
one,  I  do  not  propose  to  part  with  a  cent  for  the  purpose 
of  obtaining  my  freedom!"  The  general  touched  a  bell, 
the  door  was  opened,  an  orderly  saluted,  and  the  general 
commanded  that  the  guard  appear,  and  Mr.  Trenholm 
was  returned  to  the  jail  —  but  not  in  a  carriage.  A  cor- 
poral's guard  of  negro  soldiers  marched  him  there. 

My  permit  to  visit  Mr.  Trenholm  still  held  good  and  I 
went  to  the  jail  every  day  and  several  times  saw  Mrs. 
King  there  —  the  gay  and  debonnaire  Mrs.  King,  sitting 
on  the  dirty  straw  softly  crying  while  the  courtly  old  pris- 
oner tried  to  comfort  her.  One  would  have  imagined  that 
it  was  the  woman  who  was  held  in  durance  vile  instead 
of  her  tall  and  stately  trustee  with  his  handsome  face  and 
white  hair.  I  was  not  allowed  to  take  anything  into  the 
jail  for  my  friend,  but  Mrs.  King  was  "a  duchess  who  could 
do  as  she  chooses,"  and  took  him  many  little  comforts. 

After  Mr.  Trenholm  had  been  in  jail  for  several  days  I 
was  informed  that  he  was  to  be  sent  to  Hilton  Head  on 
Port  Royal,  where  there  was  a  large  garrison  stationed  at 
the  time.  One  of  my  naval  officer  friends  kindly  interested 
himself  and  got  me  a  permit  to  go  to  Hilton  Head  on  the 
same  boat  that  was  to  take  Mr.  Trenholm  there.  I  did  not 
trust  myself  to  go  to  the  jail  on  the  day  of  his  departure, 
but  went  on  board  of  the  boat  and  waited  for  him  there. 
When  he  appeared  he  was  as  usual  surrounded  by  his  negro 


General  Gillmore,  U.S.A.  251 

guard.  This  was  an  intentional  humiliation,  as  there  were 
large  numbers  of  white  soldiers  in  Charleston,  and  in  addi- 
tion to  the  negroes  a  company  of  whites  was  stationed  at 
the  jail.  When  the  boat  started,  Mr.  Trenholm  was  al- 
lowed to  sit  on  a  bench  on  the  upper  deck  and  I  was  per- 
mitted to  take  a  seat  beside  him,  and  the  moment  I  did  so 
a  negro  soldier  seated  himself  on  the  other  side  of  him. 

Arriving  at  Hilton  Head  we  waited  on  the  boat  for  some 
little  time  while  an  officer  went  ashore,  probably  to  find 
out  what  disposition  was  to  be  made  of  his  prisoner,  for 
as  soon  as  he  returned  he  ordered  Mr.  Trenholm  to  be 
brought  ashore,  and  then  accompanied  by  the  guard  we 
marched  to  a  neat-looking  cottage  occupied  by  General 
Gillmore  as  his  headquarters.  As  we  halted  in  front  of  the 
cottage  a  splendid,  soldierly-looking  man,  came  out,  and 
extending  both  hands  to  Mr.  Trenholm,  exclaimed,  "My 
dear  sir,  I  am  distressed  to  see  you  in  this  position.  What 
can  have  brought  you  here?"  Mr.  Trenholm  explained  and 
added  that  he  regretted  very  much  that  their  very  pleasant 
acquaintance  of  some  years  past,  when  General  Gillmore 
had  been  stationed  at  Charleston,  should  be  renewed 
under,  to  him,  such  humiliating  circumstances.  General 
Gillmore  ordered  the  guard  dismissed  and  invited  the 
prisoner  into  his  house  where  he  offered  us  refreshments. 

As  near  as  I  can  remember,  General  Gillmore  said  to 
Mr.  Trenholm:  "  I  can  see  no  reason  for  your  arrest  at  this 
time.  You  could  not  escape  even  if  you  wanted  to.  You 
had  better  go  back  to  your  home.  The  boat  you  came  on 
returns  within  the  hour.  You  had  better,  however,  give 
me  your  written  parole  that  you  will  come  back  whenever 
I  send  for  you."  In  less  than  an  hour  we  were  on  our  way 
home,  free  men,  and  without  a  guard! 

General  Gillmore's  courtesy  and  consideration  for  an  ante- 
bellum friend  cost  him  dear.  The  general  in  command 
at  Charleston  resented  his  action  in  freeing  Mr.  Trenholm, 
and  reported  the  matter  to  Washington,  with  the  result 


252   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

that  General  Gillmore  was  relieved  of  the  command  at 
Hilton  Head,  and  the  sequel  of  his  kind  action  was  hardly 
less  serious  for  Mr.  Trenholm,  as  he  had  hardly  got  home 
before  an  order  came  from  Washington  to  rearrest  him  and 
imprison  him  in  Fort  Pulaski  below  Savannah,  Georgia. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

Mr.  Trenholm  and  others  of  Mr.  Davis's  Cabinet  imprisoned  in  Fort  Pulaski 
—  I  make  a  hurried  trip  to  New  Orleans  to  engage  counsel  —  I  get  married  — 
Study  (?)  law  —  General  Daniel  E.  Sickles  orders  Mr.  Trenholm's  home  re- 
turned to  him  —  I  become  a  widower  —  Yellow  fever  saves  me  from  being  on 
board  of  the  fated  Evening  Star. 

I  was  not  allowed  to  accompany  Mr,  Trenholm  to  Fort 
Pulaski.  The  after  effects  of  his  release  were  no  less  unfor- 
tunate for  the  other  members  of  President  Davis's  Cabi- 
net than  they  were  for  himself.  They  were  all,  with  the 
exception  of  Mr.  Benjamin  and  General  Breckinridge,  who 
had  made  good  their  escape,  at  once  arrested  and  sent  to 
Fort  Pulaski.  A  rumor  spread  amongst  us  that  they  were 
to  be  tried  on  the  charge  of  high  treason,  and  Mr.  Tren- 
holm's family  thought  it  advisable  that  I  should  make  an 
effort  to  see  him  and  find  out  his  wishes  as  to  retaining 
counsel  to  defend  him  at  the  trial  which  we  all  believed  to 
be  imminent.  My  only  hope  of  getting  a  permit  to  visit 
the  fort  lay  in  the  persuasive  powers  of  Mrs.  King,  who 
said,  of  course,  she  could  obtain  one  for  me,  and  she  did. 
When  I  entered  the  casemate  where  these  elderly  and  dis- 
tinguished men  were  confined,  it  was  a  sad  sight,  indeed. 
Their  only  apparent  comforts  were  the  cots  on  which  they 
sat  in  the  daytime  and  slept  at  night.  The  tide  ebbed  and 
flowed  under  the  floor  of  their  apartment,  and  through 
the  spaces  between  the  planks  I  could  see  the  water  at  high 
tide  and  the  muddy  bottom  at  low,  and  the  stench  from 
the  mud  was  most  unpleasant. 

I  consulted  with  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  he  directed  me  to 
go  to  New  York  as  quickly  as  possible  and  retain  the  serv- 
ices of  Mr.  William  M.  Evarts,  one  of  the  most  distin- 
guished lawyers  of  that  time,  and  then  to  proceed  to  New 
Orleans  and  engage  my  elder  brother,  Judge  P.  H.  Morgan 
(who  was  a  Union  man),  for  the  same  purpose. 


254   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

The  railroads  throughout  the  South  had  been  so  torn 
up  by  the  Union  armies  that  to  go  from  Charleston  to  New 
Orleans  it  was  necessary  first  to  go  by  sea  to  New  York 
and  then  either  take  a  steamer  for  New  Orleans,  or  else 
go  by  rail  to  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  and  there  take  a  river 
steamboat  and  go  down  the  Mississippi,  a  long  and  tedious 
trip,  and  a  most  uninteresting  one,  for  of  all  the  great  rivers 
in  the  world  the  scenery  of  the  lower  Mississippi  is  prob- 
ably the  most  monotonous. 

Arriving  at  New  Orleans,  I  found  my  mother  and  two 
unmarried  sisters  at  my  brother's  house.  These  latter  had 
suffered  much  from  privation  and  want  in  the  Confederacy, 
and  were  now  suffering  more  mentally  on  account  of  the 
attitude  of  their  former  friends,  who,  despite  the  fact  that 
two  of  our  brothers  had  given  their  lives  to  the  Southern 
cause,  and  that  I  had  served  "from  the  crack  of  the  first 
gun  to  the  end  of  the  war,"  shunned  them  as  though  they 
were  unclean  because  they  had  taken  refuge  from  star- 
vation in  the  house  of  a  brother  who  was  a  Union  man. 
A  notable  exception,  however,  was  the  devoted  friendship 
shown  them  by  the  Misses  Ada  and  Marie  Pierce,  who 
were,  not  only  in  my  opinion,  but  in  that  of  the  public 
generally,  the  two  most  beautiful  girls  that  New  Orleans 
could  boast  of.  I  suppose  that  this  generation  cannot 
understand  such  a  state  of  feeling,  and  really  it  was  for 
the  most  part  indulged  in  by  people  whose  male  relatives 
had  funked  going  into  the  Confederate  Army  and  whose 
women-folks  had  suffered  no  inconvenience  and  had  lost 
nothing.  Their  extreme  patriotism  did  not  extend  that  far. 

I  remained  only  a  few  days  in  New  Orleans  and  returned 
to  New  York  on  the  same  ship  which  had  brought  me 
there  a  week  previously.  I  was  accompanied  by  my  brother 
and  my  sister  Sarah.  Leaving  Judge  Morgan  in  New  York, 
my  sister  and  I  continued  on  our  journey  to  Columbia, 
South  Carolina,  where  we  found  the  Trenholm  family 
still  in  the  greatest  distress  on  account  of  Mr.  Trenholm's 


I   GET  MARRIED  255 

imprisonment  in  Fort  Pulaski  and  the  uncertainty  as  to 
what  his  fate  was  to  be.  I  overheard  a  "truly  loyal  man" 
say  that  "if  the  United  States  Government  did  not  hang 
Jeff  Davis's  Cabinet  soon,  the  chills  and  fever  would  shake 
the  life  out  of  them  before  a  rope  could  be  placed  around 
their  necks."  When  this  kindly  gentleman  was  asked  how 
the  prisoners  spent  their  time,  he  replied,  "By  watching 
the  -  fiddler '  crabs  through  the  chinks  of  the  floor  as  they 
crawled  over  the  mud  and  slime  when  the  tide  was  out,  and 
twiddling  their  thumbs  when  it  was  in." 

There  was  a  very  influential  party  in  the  North  which 
clamored  for  the  hanging  of  Jefferson  Davis  and  his  Cabi- 
net and  a  carpetbag  United  States  district  attorney  even 
went  so  far  as  to  issue  a  warrant  for  the  arrest  of  General 
Lee,  but  General  Grant  here  stepped  in  and  caused  the 
warrant  to  be  quashed.  Mr.  Trenholm's  lawyers  could 
do  nothing  for  him,  as  President  Johnson  declined  to  dis- 
cuss his  case  with  them,  but  the  Reverend  A.  Toomer 
Porter,  rector  of  the  Church  of  the  Holy  Communion, 
which  Mr.  Trenholm  attended  when  at  home  in  Charles- 
ton, went  to  Washington  and  persuaded  the  President  to 
grant  him  a  pardon.  One  of  Mr.  Trenholm's  lawyers,  a 
Mr.  Campbell,  of  Charleston,  sued  Mr.  Trenholm  for  a 
fee  for  his  services  in  obtaining  the  pardon,  and  although 
the  President  of  the  United  States  stated  that  he  had  re- 
fused to  discuss  the  matter  with  Mr.  Campbell,  the  jury 
gave  a  verdict  in  the  latter's  favor  for  fifty  thousand  dol- 
lars. There  were  some  queer  juries  in  the  South  in  those 
unsettled  times,  and  one  of  the  jurymen  in  this  case  was 
heard  to  say  that  Mr.  Trenholm  was  a  rich  man  and  it 
served  him  right,  as  it  was  a  good  thing  to  put  some  of  the 
thousands  of  dollars  he  had  made  in  blockade-running  into 
circulation.  Mr.  Trenholm  was  pardoned  in  September, 
1865,  and  I  was  married  in  October,  and  at  once  went 
to  New  Orleans  via  New  York  and  St.  Louis. 

Not  appreciating  the  handicap  of  my  defective  educa- 


256   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

tion  and  the  fact  that  the  life  I  had  led  since  I  was  fifteen 
years  of  age  was  not  conducive  to  preparing  me  for  any  of 
the  learned  professions,  I  decided  to  enter  Judge  Morgan's 
office,  matriculate  at  the  University  of  Louisiana,  and  study 
law.  My  cousin  H.  Gibbes  Morgan  was  a  student  in  the 
office,  and  I  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  that  made  the  pros- 
pect all  the  more  pleasing.  But  try  as  I  would  I  could  not 
concentrate  my  mind  on  those  dry  law  books  or  atten- 
tively listen  to  the  lectures  which  were  given  by  distin- 
guished civil-law  lawyers;  and  besides,  New  Orleans  was 
very  gay  at  that  time,  as  there  was  plenty  of  Northern 
money  there,  and  planters  could  still  borrow  on  mort- 
gages at  ten  and  twelve  per  cent.  The  city  was  under  mili- 
tary government,  and  it  was  only  later  when  the  Recon- 
struction policy  turned  the  State  over  to  the  carpetbaggers 
and  negroes  that  the  natives  began  to  feel  the  real  pinch 
of  poverty.  I  must  confess  that  dinners  at  Victor's  and 
Moreau's,  in  the  city,  and  at  old  Jules  Coche's  restaurant 
on  the  Lake  Ponchartrain  shore,  appealed  to  me  more  than 
did  the  Code  Civil,  Justinian,  or  Blackstone.  Then,  too, 
I  had  a  fast  trotting  horse  whose  health  and  speed  required 
a  great  deal  of  exercise  on  the  shell  road  extending  from 
the  city  to  the  lake  —  needless  to  say  the  horse  got  it.  But 
oh,  those  dreary  hours  spent  in  that  office  while  Gibbes 
Morgan  worked,  and  my  brother  in  the  back  room  wrote 
briefs.  I  would  sit  in  a  sort  of  stupor  blankly  gazing  at  a 
law  book  while  I  whistled  the  air  of  a  popular  song  of  the 
day  called  "Beautiful  Dreamer  out  on  the  Sea,"  which 
scandalized  the  serious  judge  and  almost  drove  him  frantic. 
My  brother  had  been  elevated  to  the  bench  when  he  was 
only  twenty-six  and  he  regarded  the  study  of  the  law  as  a 
serious  proposition  not  to  be  whistled  down  the  wind.  In 
that  law  class  there  was  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Ed- 
ward D.  White,  who  afterwards  became  Chief  Justice  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  the  United  States,  and  that  was  as 
near  as  I  ever  came  to  a  great  lawyer. 


Yellow  Fever  257 

While  I  was  in  New  Orleans  General  Daniel  E.  Sickles, 
U.S.A.,  was  placed  in  command  of  the  Department  of 
South  Carolina  with  headquarters  in  Charleston.  Mr. 
Trenholm  having  some  business  with  him  one  day,  Gen- 
eral Sickles  told  him  that  he  had  much  admired  his  beau- 
tiful home  on  Rutledge  Avenue,  and  asked  Mr.  Trenholm 
why  he  did  not  live  in  it,  and  seemed  very  much  surprised 
when  Mr.  Trenholm  told  him  that  it  had  been  seized  when 
Charleston  was  captured  and  had  been  used  ever  since  for 
a  negro  school.  General  Sickles  said  he  would  very  soon 
fix  that  matter,  and  summoning  an  officer  he  ordered  him 
at  once  to  turn  the  negroes  out  of  Mr.  Trenholm's  house 
and  turn  the  property  over  to  him.  The  people  of  Charles- 
ton took  great  offense  at  General  Sickles  driving  a  coach 
and  four,  as  in  their  poverty  they  resented  this  show  of 
affluence,  but  they  lived  to  see  the  day  when  they  regretted 
General  Sickles's  removal  from  the  command,  as  his  suc- 
cessor made  life  for  them  very  unpleasant. 

When  I  returned  with  my  wife  to  Charleston  in  the 
spring  of  1866  we  found  Mr.  Trenholm  and  his  family  com- 
fortably established  in  their  beautiful  home,  and  all  went 
well  until  the  month  of  September,  when  a  little  girl  was 
born;  and  ten  days  afterwards  my  wife  died  of  the  fever 
which  was  then  prevalent  in  Charleston,  and  I  was  left  a 
widower  and  not  yet  twenty-one  years  of  age. 

I  wrote  to  New  York  and  engaged  passage  in  the  ship 
Evening  Star  for  New  Orleans  and  proceeded  to  New  York 
myself  by  the  next  steamer.  Arriving  in  New  York  I  went 
directly  to  that  paradise  of  Southerners,  the  old  New  York 
Hotel  on  Broadway.  I  went  to  my  room  and  at  once  was 
taken  very  ill.  I  must  have  had  the  seeds  of  yellow  fever 
in  my  system  and  the  change  to  a  cooler  climate  must  have 
developed  the  disease.  I  must  have  been  unconscious  or 
out  of  my  head  for  some  thirty-six  hours  when,  fortunately 
for  me,  Dr.  John  T.  Metcalf,  an  eminent  physician,  called 
at  the  hotel,  and  glancing  over  the  register  saw  my  name 


258        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  sent  up  his  card.  The  bellboy  returned  and  said  that 
there  was  some  one  in  the  room  moaning,  but  that  he  would 
not  open  the  door.  Dr.  Metcalf  was  an  intimate  friend  of 
Judge  Morgan,  and  he  insisted  that  the  door  should  be 
forced.  Seeing  my  condition  at  a  glance,  he  had  me  wrapped 
in  blankets  and  carried  to  his  waiting  carriage  and  took 
me  to  his  home,  then  on  Fourteenth  Street,  where  he 
nursed  me  back  to  life.  While  I  was  ill  at  his  house  the  ill- 
fated  Evening  Star  left  for  New  Orleans  with  several  hun- 
dred passengers  on  board,  including  three  or  four  theatri- 
cal troupes,  and  she  went  down  off  Tybee  Island  on  the 
coast  of  Georgia  and  only  two  men  and  one  woman  in  a 
small  open  boat  were  saved. 

When  I  had  sufficiently  recovered,  I  took  passage  for 
New  Orleans  in  the  steamer  Merrimac  and  found  among 
my  fellow  passengers  the  family  of  Mr.  John  Watt,  who 
were  taking  with  them  to  New  Orleans  Miss  Ada  Pierce,  a 
very  dear  friend  of  my  sisters.  My  meeting  with  Mr.  Watt 
was  somewhat  embarrassing,  as  less  than  three  years  before, 
when  in  the  cruiser  Georgia,  I  had  captured  off  Cape  Town 
the  fine  sailing  ship  John  Watt,  named  for  him  and  in  which 
he  was  largely  interested. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Try  cotton-planting  with  the  usual  sailor's  success  —  Better  success  following 
the  hounds  —  Charles  Astor  Bristed;  "Man  is  a  gregarious  animal"  — 
Drayton  Hall  —  Discovery  of  the  phosphate  rocks  —  Visit  Philadelphia  —  Go 
on  the  New  York  Yacht  Club  cruise  —  General  McClellan  —  General  W.  S. 
Hancock  views  the  yacht  race. 

Arriving  in  New  Orleans  I  tried  to  resume  the  study  of 
the  law,  but  met  with  rather  worse  than  indifferent  success. 
A  proposition  from  two  gentlemen  who  had  married  cousins 
of  mine,  that  I  should  furnish  the  money  and  join  with  them 
in  planting  the  old  "Hope  Estate"  plantation,  where  so 
many  happy  days  of  my  boyhood  had  been  passed,  appealed 
to  me  strongly.  There  are  few  naval  officers  who  do  not 
imagine  that  if  they  only  had  a  small  farm  they  could  make 
their  fortunes,  and  I  was  no  exception  to  the  rule ;  and  yet  it 
is  a  strange  fact  that  most  sailors  commenced  life  as  farm 
boys.  There  is  an  old  story  in  the  navy  about  a  sailor  on  the 
"lookout"  during  a  storm,  who,  being  lashed  to  the  fore- 
stay  to  keep  him  from  being  washed  overboard,  when  a  big 
sea  swept  over  him  was  heard  to  exclaim,  in  the  stillness  of 
the  mid  watch,  after  a  mountain  of  water  had  passed  over 
his  head,  "And  to  think,  by  gum,  I  sold  a  farm  to  go  to  sea ! " 

Well,  on  the  rich  sugar  land  our  cotton  plants  grew  beauti- 
fully. I  looked  over  the  immense  field  one  afternoon  and 
the  cotton  blooms,  red,  white,  yellow,  and  blue,  gave  it  the 
appearance  of  a  garden  of  flowers.  I  gazed  on  that  same 
field  the  next  morning,  and  as  far  as  the  eye  could  reach 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  but  leafless  and  bare  bushes. 
The  army  worm  had  got  in  his  fine  work  of  destruction  over- 
night. 

I  returned  to  Charleston  and  made  my  home  with  my 
young  brother-in-law,  Frank  Trenholm,  who  at  the  age  of 
sixteen  had  been  an  aide  on  the  staff  of  General  Beauregard. 
He  afterwards  served  on  the  staff  of  General  D.  H.  Hill, 


260   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  also  as  aide-de-camp  to  General  States  Rights  Gist 
who,  when  shot  at  the  battle  of  Franklin,  died  in  his  arms. 
I  believe  seventeen  Confederate  generals  were  killed  in  that 
bloody  fight. 

Colonel  Alfred  Rhett  had  a  pack  of  hounds  —  he  was  no 
less  famous  as  a  sportsman  than  he  was  as  a  duelist.  He  and 
his  brother,  Major  Burnett  Rhett,  were  tireless  fox-hunters 
and  often  the  colonel  and  Frank  Trenholm  would  join  their 
packs  so  as  to  have  a  fuller  cry,  and  many  a  glorious  run  we 
had  behind  them.  In  those  days  one  could  get  up  a  fox  any 
time  within  four  miles  of  the  city,  and  we  frequently  jumped 
up  a  deer  within  six  or  seven  miles  from  the  Town  Hall. 
The  men  were  superb  horsemen  and  many  a  marvelous  feat 
of  horsemanship  I  saw  performed  during  those  hunts. 

It  would  be  difficult  for  this  generation  to  understand  the 
mental  attitude  of  the  people  of  South  Carolina  when  under 
military  government  and  afterwards  while  under  the  hor- 
rible orgy  of  crime  called  the  "carpetbag  government." 
Atlanta,  Norfolk,  and  Savannah  had  welcomed  Northern 
capitalists  and  they  were  prospering  by  leaps  and  bounds, 
but  Charleston  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  those  whom 
they  called  "Northern  vandals,"  and  the  consequence  was 
that  Charleston  remained  dead.  All  weapons  had  (sup- 
posedly) been  taken  away  from  the  people,  save  one,  and 
that  one  the  Charlestonian  knew  how  to  use  with  most 
extraordinary  effect.  It  was  the  right  to  ostracize  the 
stranger,  and  the  native  who  gave  him  countenance.  One 
instance  of  the  deadly  effect  of  the  use  of  this  social  weapon 
made  an  impression  on  me.  It  was  that  of  the  case  of  Mr. 
Charles  Astor  Bristed,  a  grandson  of  the  first  John  Jacob 
Astor.  Mr.  Bristed  was  a  man  of  great  wealth,  and  of  lit- 
erary tastes ;  he  was  refined  to  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  and  of 
course  in  New  York  moved  in  the  most  select  of  the  inner 
circle  of  society.  He  was  in  bad  health  and  had  been  advised 
to  seek  the  mild  winter  climate  of  Charleston.  He  brought 
with  him  letters  of  introduction  to  several  prominent  people 


Charles  Astor  Bristed  261 

in  Charleston,  among  them  Mr.  Trenholm.  On  his  arrival 
he  was  delighted  with  the  air  and  the  quaint  beauty  of  the 
place  and  at  once  bought  a  pretty  home  on  the  "South 
Battery"  facing  the  Ashley  River.  He  confided  to  Mr. 
Trenholm  that  he  had  large  sums  of  money  lying  idle  in 
New  York  banks  and  made  inquiry  as  to  what  rates  of 
interest  could  be  had  for  it  in  Charleston.  He  was  amazed 
when  Mr.  Trenholm  told  him  that  he  could  place  it  on 
absolutely  safe  security  for  ten  or  twelve  per  cent,  but  that 
Heaven  only  knew  what  rate  he  could  get  for  it  if  he  felt 
disposed  to  take  any  chances.  He  asked  Mr.  Trenholm  to 
place  the  amount  (according  to  my  recollection  it  was  some 
two  or  three  hundred  thousand  dollars)  for  him.  After 
several  months'  sojourn  he  one  day  went  into  Mr.  Tren- 
holm's  counting-house  and  asked  him  to  sell  out  his  securi- 
ties and  his  residence,  and  when  Mr.  Trenholm  expressed 
surprise,  Mr.  Bristed  told  him  that  "man  was  a  gregarious 
animal  and  it  was  necessary  to  his  happiness  that  he  should 
hold  communication  with  other  human  beings."  He  per- 
sonally thanked  Mr.  Trenholm  for  the  courtesy  he  had 
shown  him,  adding,  "You  and  young  Morgan  are  the  only 
two  gentlemen  who  have  darkened  my  door  in  all  the  months 
I  have  been  here"  —  and  Mr.  Bristed  and  his  money  left 
Charleston,  to  be  seen  there  no  more. 

In  those  days  the  family  connection  unto  the  fortieth 
remove  was  considered  a  sacred  relation  and  that  was  the 
reason  some  of  the  Southern  clans  were  so  powerful  —  nous 
avons  change  tout  cela.  My  grandfather's  sister,  Anne 
Morgan,  had  married  Mr.  Thomas  Stanyarn  Gibbes,  of 
South  Carolina,  and  one  of  her  granddaughters,  Miss 
Augusta  Gibbes,  of  New  York,  had  married  the  second  John 
Jacob  Astor,  and  that  was  sufficient  reason,  besides  Mr. 
Bristed's  agreeable  personality,  for  me  to  show  him  what 
little  attention  was  within  my  power. 

In  connection  with  the  Charlestonian's  repugnance  to 
being  brought  into  contact  with  Northern  people,  it  should 


262   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

be  remembered  how  cruelly  they  had  suffered  and  that  their 
hardships  were  far  from  being  over,  and  that  they  were  a 
proud  people  who  were  willing  to  endure  poverty  in  silence, 
but  they  did  not  care  to  have  strangers  see  the  many  shifts 
they  were  forced  to  resort  to  in  the  privacy  of  their  homes, 
while  they  carried  their  heads  so  high  and  presented  such 
a  bold  front  before  the  rest  of  the  world. 

We  rarely  know  what  is  best  for  us  in  this  world,  and  the 
helpless  people  chafed  under  martial  law  and  called  their 
soldier  rulers  "military  satraps";  but  these  men  did  not 
pillage  the  State  as  did  that  robber  crew  who  came  into 
power  when  the  so-called  civil  government  was  established 
under  the  Reconstruction  laws  which  so  nearly  caused  the 
destruction  of  the  Commonwealth.  Besides,  the  regular  sol- 
diery made  the  evilly  disposed  negroes  behave  themselves. 
The  blacks  had  not  generally  as  yet  fully  realized  their 
changed  estate  and  as  a  people  behaved  fairly  well  until  the 
carpetbagger  arrived. 

Early  vegetables  for  the  Northern  market  as  a  means  of 
recouping  Southern  fortunes  was  becoming  a  burning  ques- 
tion, and  I  espoused  the  cause  enthusiastically,  and  selected 
one  of  Mr.  Trenholm's  plantations  on  the  Ashley  River, 
about  ten  miles  above  Charleston,  for  the  scene  of  my 
operations.  I  made  a  crop  of  potatoes  all  right,  and  shipped 
them  to  New  York,  and  what  I  got  for  them  was  a  bill  from 
the  middleman  for  expenses  incurred  in  having  them  carried 
to  the  dump.  But  there  were  plenty  of  deer,  foxes,  wild 
cats,  wild  turkeys,  and  quail  in  the  neighborhood  and  I  had 
plenty  of  sport.  My  menage  at  Vaucluse  (the  name  of  the 
plantation)  was  not  a  very  luxurious  one.  I  fitted  up  a  two- 
room  shanty,  one  room  serving  me  as  bedroom,  sitting- 
room,  and  dining-room,  and  the  other  as  a  kitchen.  I  had 
an  old  negro  woman  to  cook  for  me  and  a  rascally  boy 
named  Philip  to  wait  on  me. 

There  had  once  been  stately  colonial  mansions  on  these 
plantations  along  the  banks  of  the  Ashley  River,  many  of 


Discovery  of  the  Phosphate  Rocks       263 

them  built  with  brick  brought  from  England,  but  only 
Drayton  Hall  remained  standing  at  the  time  I  was  there. 
When  Charleston  fell,  gunboats  came  up  the  river  and 
wantonly  knocked  down  one  after  the  other  of  these  splen- 
did residences.  When  the  Drayton  family  heard  the  cannon 
they  were  at  dinner  and  rushed  out  of  the  house,  thinking 
that  it  would  soon  be  tumbling  on  their  heads.  None  of 
them  returned  to  it  for  six  months  or  more.  When  the  gun- 
boat stopped  in  front  of  Drayton  Hall,  the  old  negro  butler, 
a  man  whose  first  name  was  Jack,  and  who  had  always  been 
a  slave  of  the  Draytons,  got  into  a  log  canoe  and  paddled 
out  to  the  warship  and  implored  the  captain  not  to  destroy 
Admiral  Drayton's  house;  and  the  officer,  not  wishing  to  get 
into  trouble  with  an  admiral,  spared  it.  Jack  knew  as  much 
about  the  Drayton  genealogy  as  did  any  member  of  the 
family;  and  he  knew  perfectly  well  that  Admiral  Drayton, 
although  belonging  to  the  same  family,  did  not  own  a  brick 
in  the  building.  This  Admiral  Drayton  was  with  the  United 
States  fleet  at  the  battle  of  Port  Royal  where  his  brother 
General  Drayton  commanded  the  Southern  forts. 

Although  at  Drayton  Hall  and  the  neighboring  planta- 
tions there  were  hundreds  of  negroes,  and  not  a  single  white 
man  nearer  than  Charleston,  when  the  Drayton  family  re- 
turned after  an  absence  of  several  months  they  found  their 
silver  and  other  property  untouched.  The  dishes  and  plates 
with  the  viands  and  vegetables  on  them,  now  thoroughly 
dried,  stood  where  they  had  been  left  when  the  family  fled 
from  what  they  regarded  as  a  doomed  building. 

It  was  while  I  was  at  Drayton  Hall  that  Professor  Francis 
Holmes,  a  geologist,  and  a  brother  of  Mrs.  George  A. 
Trenholm,  showed  Dr.  Pratt,  a  chemist,  a  deposit  of  phos- 
phate rock  on  his  plantation,  about  three  miles  below 
Drayton  Hall.  Dr.  Pratt  already  knew  the  value  of  the 
material,  having  made  an  analysis  of  a  sample  picked  up  at 
some  other  place.  It  was  due  to  this  discovery  that  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  becoming  acquainted  with  Mr.  George  T. 


264         Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Lewis,  Mr.  Samuel  Grant,  Mr.  Fisher,  and  several  other 
gentlemen  from  Philadelphia  who  came  to  Drayton  Hall, 
as  it  was  the  only  decent  habitation  in  that  part  of  the 
country.  It  did  not  take  these  gentlemen  long  to  look  over 
the  field  and  buy  up  thousands  of  acres. 

When  I  visited  Philadelphia  afterwards  these  gentlemen 
and  their  families  showed  me  the  greatest  hospitality.  A 
number  of  them  had  beautiful  country  places  at  Torresdale 
on  the  Delaware  River,  and  many  were  the  happy  days  I 
spent  there. 

Mr.  Charles  Macallister,  Jr.,  invited  me  to  accompany 
him  on  the  cruise  of  the  New  York  Yacht  Squadron.  His 
yacht,  the  Scud,  was  the  smallest  schooner  in  the  fleet  and 
in  dimensions  a  veritable  toy  boat.  Her  crew  consisted  of  a 
sailing  master  and  two  men  before  the  mast.  Macallister 
usually  took  her  to  New  York  via  the  canal,  but  on  a  dare, 
Macallister  and  I  took  her  down  the  river,  through  Dela- 
ware Bay,  and  passing  Cape  May  put  boldly  out  into  the 
Atlantic  and  headed  for  New  York.  The  Scud  had  a  centre- 
board and  an  open  cockpit,  and  she  was  not  very  weatherly 
even  for  so  small  a  boat.  Off  Barnegat  Light  there  came  on 
a  moderate  gale  of  wind  and  the  cockpit  was  the  cause  of 
our  very  nearly  foundering,  as  occasionally  a  sea  would 
come  over  and  fill  it,  almost  waterlogging  the  little  craft 
and  rendering  it  necessary  for  us  to  spend  all  of  one  night 
bailing  it  out  with  buckets.  But  we  reached  port  all  right 
and  spent  several  pleasant  days  in  New  York  before  joining 
the  squadron. 

While  at  New  York  Mr.  Macallister  met  General  George 
B.  McClellan,  an  intimate  friend  of  his  father,  and  invited 
him  to  go  for  a  sail  up  the  Sound.  I  found  the  general  to  be 
a  most  affable  companion,  and  when  he  learned  that  I  had 
been  a  witness  of  the  battles  of  Seven  Pines  (Fair  Oaks)  and 
of  the  Seven  Days,  he  seemed  to  take  an  interest  in  me. 
Mr.  Macallister  told  him  about  a  cartoon  I  had  seen  in  a 
Richmond  paper  in  1862  representing  the  general  at  Harri- 


General  Hancock  views  Yacht  Race      265 

son's  Landing,  embracing  a  sailor,  and  saying,  "Jack,  a 
gunboat  is  a  glorious  institution  —  there  ought  to  be  one  in 
every  family ! "  The  general  laughed  most  heartily  over  this 
story.  We  brought  the  general  safely  back  to  New  York, 
and  the  next  day  sailed  for  Glencove  on  the  Sound,  where 
we  joined  the  yacht  squadron.  There  were  some  twenty- five 
or  thirty  yachts  anchored  there  and  the  only  steamer  in  the 
fleet  was  the  flagship.  What  a  difference  from  to-day  (1916) 
when  hundreds  of  yachts  assemble  on  these  occasions  and 
the  majority  of  them  are  steamers  or  power  boats! 

At  Newport  there  were  the  usual  yacht  races,  and  Gen- 
eral Winfield  S.  Hancock,  U.S.A.,  consented  to  accept  Mr. 
Macallister's  invitation  to  go  out  on  the  Scud  to  witness  the 
finish  of  the  principal  contest  of  the  big  yachts  to  Block 
Island  and  back,  but  only  on  the  condition  that  the  Scud 
was  to  carry  the  least  possible  amount  of  sail.  For  a  little 
while  I  thought  the  general  was  timorous  on  the  water,  but 
when  we  saw  the  Dauntless,  Phantom,  Vesta,  Fleetwind,  and 
the  other  big  schooners  of  that  day  coming  back,  and  gain- 
ing on  us,  as  we  steered  for  port,  the  general  became  very 
enthusiastic  and  insisted  that  we  should  set  every  stitch  of 
canvas  there  was  on  the  boat  rather  than  be  passed. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Receive  a  commission  as  captain  in  the  Egyptian  Army  —  Hurried  trip  to 
Egypt  with  nineteen  other  ex-Union  and  Confederate  officers  —  Alexandria  — 
Call  an  Oriental  bluff  —  Cause  small  panic  in  hotel  by  opening  windows  during 
the  "kempsine"  —  In  uniform  —  Presented  to  the  Khedive  —  American  offi- 
cers in  Khedive's  army  —  Letters  of  President  Davis  and  General  R.  E.  Lee. 

In  1869,  General  W.  T.  Sherman,  U.S.A.,  visited  Egypt, 
and  the  then  Khedive,  Ismail  Pasha,  gave  him  a  most  cor- 
dial reception,  making  him  many  handsome  presents, 
among  them  diamonds  of  such  value  for  his  daughter  that  it 
puzzled  the  poor  general  for  some  years  to  raise  the  neces- 
sary amount  which  a  grateful  government  demanded  for  the 
custom-house  dues  charged  upon  them.  The  Khedive  took 
General  Sherman  into  his  confidence  and  told  him  of  some 
of  his  troubles.  He  complained  of  the  necessity  his  French 
officers  were  under  to  consult  the  Imperial  Government 
at  Paris  before  they  could  obey  his  orders.  He  asked 
General  Sherman  if  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  get 
American  officers  who  had  so  recently  (at  that  time)  been 
engaged  in  actual  war.  The  result  of  the  conference  was  that 
it  was  decided  to  ship  the  French  officers  home  and  send  for 
twenty  Americans,  ten  from  the  Northern  army,  and  ten 
Southerners.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  be  offered  one  of 
the  commissions. 

It  was  the  common  rumor  at  that  time  that  the  Khedive 
intended  to  attempt  to  throw  off  the  yoke  of  his  nominal 
master,  the  Sultan  of  Turkey,  to  whom  he  had  to  pay  a 
heavy  tribute.  Naturally  we  American  officers  were  anxious 
to  get  to  Egypt  before  the  anticipated  fray  began,  so  we 
hurried  on  board  of  an  Inman  Line  steamer,  the  City  of 
Washington.  For  those  days  the  liner  was  a  very  fine  and 
large  ship  of  nearly  four  thousand  tons.  She  was  full  ship 
rigged  and  very  fast.  It  took  us  only  twelve  days  to  make 
the  passage  to  Liverpool,  in  which  city  we  spent  three  hours 


LIEUTEXANT-COLONEL    MORGAN 

Egyptian  Army,  1S70 


Alexandria  267 

waiting  for  a  train  for  London.  In  London  we  lingered  for 
an  hour  before  starting  for  Paris.  In  Paris  we  stayed  four 
hours  and  then  took  a  train  for  Brindisi,  Italy.  We  crossed 
Mont  Cenis  on  a  railroad  built  with  three  lines  of  rails,  the 
centre  rail  being  cogged,  and  a  cog  wheel  on  our  engine 
fitted  into  the  cogs  and  thus  pulled  us  up  the  steep  inclines. 
(My  great-uncle,  Dr.  John  Morgan,  has  left  an  account  in 
his  journal  of  how  he  crossed  the  same  mountain  in  1763  on 
muleback  for  part  of  the  way  and  was  carried  in  a  sedan 
chair  the  rest.)  We  stopped  in  Brindisi  for  only  five  hours 
while  waiting  for  the  Austrian  mail  steamer  from  Trieste 
bound  for  Alexandria,  Egypt,  where  we  arrived  seventeen 
days  from  the  time  we  left  New  York. 

In  Alexandria  we  were  surprised  to  find  no  preparations 
for  war.  Nobody  was  talking  about  war,  or  thinking  about 
it  either,  and  I  must  confess  our  advent  did  not  arouse  any 
enthusiasm  that  I  could  detect.  The  first  good  advice  given 
us  was  to  discard  instantly  our  hats  and  replace  them  with 
the  tarboosh,  or  red  fez,  before  we  sat  down  at  a  meal,  as  it 
was  as  much  an  offense  to  uncover  the  head  in  the  presence 
of  a  Moslem  as  it  would  be  to  sit  at  table  with  one's  hat  on 
in  a  company  of  Christians. 

No  one  had  received  us  at  Alexandria,  and  we  were  at  a 
loss  to  know  whom  we  were  expected  to  report  to,  or  where 
we  were  to  go.  The  day  after  our  arrival,  however,  we  re- 
ceived a  summons  to  appear  before  one  of  the  many  "AH 
Beys"  who  throng  the  land  of  the  true  believer,  and  of 
course  we  at  once  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  he  must  be 
a  very  high  official  of  the  greatest  importance.  We  were 
conducted  to  his  house  and  shown  into  a  tiny  garden  where 
we  were  left  standing  while  the  great  man  put  us  through 
the  favorite  stunt  of  "heel-cooling,"  in  which  species  of 
mild  torture  the  Mexican  himself  cannot  surpass  the  Ori- 
ental —  in  fact  the  Mexican  learned  it  from  the  Spaniard, 
who  was  taught  by  the  Moor,  who  in  turn  acquired  it  from 
the  Arab.    We  were  kept  standing  there  until  one  of  the 


268   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

party  became  so  weary,  that,  supposing  none  of  the  serv- 
ants could  understand  English,  he  exclaimed  that  he 
"would  be  something  or  othered  if  he  would  stand  for  an- 
other minute";  almost  instantly  the  supposed  great  man 
appeared  among  us  as  though  by  magic.  He  was  haughty 
and  seemed  displeased.  Having  sufficiently  impressed  us 
with  his  superiority,  he  magnanimously  ordered  chairs, 
coffee,  and  chibouks,  and  waved  his  hand  in  a  manner  we 
understood  to  mean  that  we  were  to  be  seated.  He  opened 
the  pour-parler  by  telling  us  that  we  might  as  well  under- 
stand in  the  beginning  that  there  were  too  many  of  us,  and 
that  those  whom  he  decided  to  retain  would  have  to  agree 
to  a  reduction  of  one  or  two  grades,  as  the  grades  we  had 
"assumed"  were  preposterous.  The  conversation  was  car- 
ried on  in  French,  and  pointing  to  me  he  demanded  to  know 
how  old  I  was.  On  being  told  that  I  was  twenty-four,  and 
on  being  informed  that  I  aspired  to  hold  a  commission  as 
captain  of  heavy  artillery,  he  could  contain  himself  no  longer 
and  gave  way  to  laughter.  He  asked  what  pay  I  expected  to 
receive  and  was  shocked  to  hear  that  my  contract  called  for 
the  same  pay  and  emoluments  as  those  received  by  the  same 
grade  in  the  United  States  Army,  and  when  told  what  they 
were  he  almost  burst  with  indignation,  saying  that  no  colonel 
in  the  Egyptian  Army  received  such  an  enormous  sum  for 
his  services.  I  also  was  beginning  to  feel  "peeved,"  and 
drawing  myself  up  said  in  English  to  my  companions  that  I 
was  going  to  take  the  first  train  to  Cairo  for  the  purpose  of 
finding  out  who  was  responsible  for  the  practical  joke  which 
had  brought  me  seven  thousand  miles  from  home  to  be  in- 
sulted, and  when  I  found  the  man,  I  was  either  going  to  get 
satisfaction,  or  that  I  was  going  to  horsewhip  him  publicly! 
I  know  that  this  sort  of  talk  would  be  considered  awfully 
bad  form  in  these  days  (191 6),  but  I  lived  in  another  cen- 
tury —  autres  jours,  autres  moBurs. 

One  is  never  safe  in  supposing  that  an  Oriental  does  not 
understand  a  foreign  language.    It  is  a  common  trick  of 


Call  an  Oriental  Bluff  269 

theirs  to  pretend  not  to  be  able  to  speak  any  but  their  own 
lingo.  The  bey  changed  his  attitude  instantly,  and  told 
General  Stone  that  he  hoped  the  general  understood  that 
what  he,  the  bey,  had  said  was  merely  tentative,  and  an 
expression  only  of  his  own  opinion,  and  that  he  hoped  the 
matter  would  go  no  further,  etc.  He  then  informed  us  that 
he  would  send  a  man  to  show  us  to  the  railway  station  where 
we  would  be  provided  with  transportation  to  Cairo. 

When  we  left  the  garden  I  feared  that  General  Stone  was 
going  to  give  me  a  reprimand,  but  instead,  as  the  gates 
closed  behind  us,  he  burst  out  laughing  and  said,  "  Morgan, 
that  was  about  as  pretty  a  call-down  of  a  bluff  as  it  ever 
was  my  good  fortune  to  witness."  We  afterwards  discovered 
that  "Ali  Bey"  was  a  subordinate  official  of  the  railway 
department,  and  had  simply  been  "ordered  to  furnish  us 
with  transportation,  and  to  show  us  every  attention"',  and 
that  he  spoke  English  as  well  as  any  of  us,  and  had  I  not 
called  the  bluff  he  would  have  tormented  us  for  an  hour 
longer. 

It  was  about  nine  o'clock  at  night  when  we  reached  Cairo 
and  we  at  once  went  to  the  Hotel  Oriental  located  on  the 
Ezbekiah,  the  great  public  square.  We  were  all  tired  and 
asked  to  be  shown  our  rooms  at  once. 

The  Egyptians  keep  their  houses  closed  in  the  daytime 
to  keep  out  the  heat  in  the  same  manner  that  people  of 
Northern  climes  keep  out  the  cold,  but  in  the  evening  the 
doors  and  windows  are  opened  until  daylight  when  the  cool 
air  of  the  night  is  confined  in  the  house.  This  is  the  rule 
except  when  the  "kempsine,"  called  so  because  it  blows  for 
fifty  days,  is  in  season.  This  wind  is  a  species  of  sirocco 
which  comes  from  the  desert  laden  with  fine  particles  of  hot 
sand  which  gets  into  the  eyes,  nostrils,  and  throat,  causing 
great  discomfort.  The  kempsine  was  blowing  when  we  ar- 
rived, but  we  knew  nothing  of  it.  In  the  middle  of  the  night 
I  awoke  with  a  parched  throat  and  would  have  given  any- 
thing for  a  little  ice  water,  but  ice  was  a  rare  luxury  at  that 


270   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

time  in  Egypt,  and  not  furnished  by  the  hotels :  their  water 
was  cooled  by  evaporation  in  clay  "monkeys."  I  felt  that 
I  must  at  least  have  a  breath  of  fresh  air,  so  I  got  up  and 
went  into  the  hall  where  I  discovered  to  my  great  amaze- 
ment that  the  windows  were  all  not  only  closed,  but  also  had 
weather  strips  more  completely  to  keep  out  the  air.  A  bril- 
liant idea  struck  me  that  this  condition  accounted  for  the 
suffocating  atmosphere  in  the  building  and  I  proceeded  to 
open  every  window  I  could  find,  —  and  then,  proud  of  my 
work,  returned  to  my  room.  In  about  fifteen  minutes  there 
was  an  uproar  in  the  house.  Men  were  excitedly  calling 
down  maledictions  on  the  head  of  the  person  who  had 
opened  the  windows.  I  understood  plainly  the  feelings  of 
the  man  who  exclaimed,  "God  damn!"  —  also  the  fellow 
who  hissed,  "  Sacre  nom  d'un  petit  bonhomme";  "  Sabre 
de  bois";  "  Pistolet  depaille";  "  Baton  parasol  "  —  which, 
to  a  man  who  understood  the  languages,  meant  the  same 
thing.  But  it  is  always  the  unknown  that  is  most  dreaded, 
and  it  was  enough  to  make  one's  blood  curdle  to  hear  the 
guttural  anathemas  of  the  Arabs,  Albanians,  Armenians, 
Greeks,  Syrians,  Turks,  Russians,  Italians,  and  represen- 
tatives of  a  few  other  nationalities  who  patronized  that 
hostelry.  Their  oaths,  I  imagine,  were  something  terrible. 
I  never  confessed  to  being  the  culprit  —  it  was  useless,  as  I 
had  already  heard  the  opinions  of  the  British  and  French, 
and  I  could  not  speak  the  other  languages,  so  it  would  have 
been  unfair  to  confide  my  secret  to  only  two  nationalities. 

The  next  morning,  early,  a  tailor  arrived  with  orders  to 
take  our  measures  for  uniforms  as  the  "Effendina"  ("lord 
of  lords")  wished  us  to  be  in  uniform  when  presented,  and 
he  did  not  wish  to  be  kept  waiting  —  and  he  was  not.  It 
was  not  conducive  to  long  life  for  a  subject  to  keep  Ismail 
Pasha  waiting. 

The  undress  uniform  was  single-breasted  and  had  nine 
black  buttons  down  the  front,  an  exact  reproduction  of  the 
coat  of  a  Presbyterian  parson.  The  full  dress  was  as  gorge- 


Presented  to  the  Khedive  271 

ous  as  the  undress  was  simple.  A  blue  coat  with  gold  epau- 
lettes, gold  chevrons  on  the  arms,  indicating  the  rank,  gold 
aiguillettes,  and  gold  sword  belt.  The  trousers  were  of  the 
reddest  red  imaginable,  with  a  gold  stripe  running  down  the 
legs  at  least  two  inches  wide.  The  saddle-cloths  were  em- 
broidered with  gold  flowers.  Of  course  on  our  heads  we 
wore  the  red  tarboosh  with  its  long  black  tassel.  When  I 
rode  down  the  street  I  looked  so  much  like  a  streak  of  light- 
ning that  one  would  have  been  justified  in  listening  for 
thunder  after  I  had  passed  by,  and  that,  too,  in  a  country 
where  it  never,  or  hardly  ever,  rained  in  those  days. 

The  day  for  our  presentation  to  His  Highness  arrived  and 
in  full  regalia  we  appeared  at  the  Abdeen  Palace  where  we 
were  drawn  up  in  line,  in  front  of  the  absolute  despot.  Ismail 
Pasha,  the  Khedive,  was  a  very  short  man  and  very  rotund ; 
he  had  a  swarthy  countenance  as  well  as  a  very  severe  ex- 
pression; his  eyes  were  piercing  and  not  at  all  kindly,  yet 
his  manner  was  most  courteous.  He  stood  at  one  end  of  the 
grand  reception  room,  surrounded  by  his  Cabinet  and 
courtiers.  One  at  a  time,  according  to  rank,  we  were  es- 
corted by  two  officials  to  within  a  few  feet  of  His  High- 
ness, where  the  officials  as  well  as  ourselves  stopped  and 
made  the  salaam,  in  which  we  had  been  drilled  for  some  days. 
It  consisted  in  bending  the  right  knee  and  making  a  gesture 
as  though  we  were  picking  up  dirt  with  the  right  hand  and 
touching  our  hearts,  lips,  and  foreheads  with  it.  This  sa- 
laam had  been  modified  for  the  officers  so  that  it  made  a 
very  graceful  military  salute.  The  Khedive  returned  each 
salute  with  a  similar  but  very  much  abbreviated  one.  He 
spoke  but  a  few  kindly  words  to  each  one  of  us,  and  told  us 
that  at  some  future  time  he  would  make  occasion  to  talk 
with  us  more  fully.  The  Khedive,  followed  by  the  assembled 
company,  then  led  the  way  into  another  splendid  apartment 
where  iced  sherbet,  coffee,  and  cigarettes  were  served,  and 
after  the  function  was  over  we  entered  our  carriages  and  re- 
turned to  the  hotel.  For  several  days  we  roamed  about  the 


272   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

ancient  city  seeing  the  sights,  being  warned  to  keep  away 
from  the  mosques  until  we  became  better  acquainted  with 
the  people  or  were  accompanied  by  a  native  who  could  tell 
them  that  we  were  under  the  special  protection  of  the 
Effendina.  Cairo  had  not  yet  become  the  stamping-ground 
of  tourists.  Foreigners  were  curiosities,  and  the  true  be- 
liever's hatred  for  the  accursed  Giaour,  or  "Christian  dog," 
was  something  that  he  was  very  proud  of.  A  fanatic  was 
liable  to  make  trouble  at  any  moment.  Talking  about 
Cairo  reminds  me  that  in  those  days  I  never  met  an  Arab, 
outside  of  the  educated  class,  who  had  ever  heard  of  such 
a  city;  they  call  it  "El  Masr." 

The  American  officers  in  the  Egyptian  Army  while  I  was 
there  were  Major-General  Thaddeus  P.  Mott;  Brigadier- 
Generals  Charles  P.  Stone,  W.  W.  Loring,  and  Sibley;  Colo- 
nels Reynolds,  Rhett,  Jenifer,  Frank  Reynolds,  Purdy, 
Vanderbilt  Allen,  Kennon,  Ward,  and  Dunlap;  Lieutenant- 
Colonel  Long;  Majors  Campbell,  Mason,  and  Hunt;  Captain 
Paris,  and  one  or  two  others.  After  I  had  been  some  time  in 
the  Egyptian  Army,  Mr.  Trenholm  forwarded  me  the  fol- 
lowing letters,  the  originals  of  which  are  now  in  the  Con- 
federate Museum  in  Richmond :  — 

Memphis,  Tenn.,  27th  April,  1870. 

J.  M.  Morgan. 

My  dear  Sir:  — 

Since  fortune  decrees  that  you  should  seek  in  foreign  service 
a  field  for  the  exercise  of  your  military  talents,  I  am  glad  to  know 
that  you  have  chosen  the  service  of  the  Viceroy  of  Egypt.  The 
enlightened  policy  which  has  guided  his  administration,  as  it  did 
that  of  his  illustrious  father,  renders  his  the  most  attractive 
service  which  a  foreigner  could  find.  Your  naval  education  and 
experience  in  actual  war  will,  I  hope,  secure  you  an  early  oppor- 
tunity to  make  manifest  the  capacity  of  which  your  youth  gave 
promise,  and  to  secure  for  you  a  name  worthy  of  those  from  whom 
you  are  descended. 

With  best  wishes  for  your  welfare  and  happiness, 

I  am  very  truly  yours, 

Jefferson  Davis. 


Letter  of  General  R.  E.  Lee     273 

Savannah,  Georgia,  18th  April,  1870. 
Mr.  J.  M.  Morgan  was  an  officer  in  the  Confederate  service 
during  the  late  war  and  served  both  on  land  and  sea.   So  far  as 
my  knowledge  extends,  he  performed  the  duty  assigned  him  satis- 
factorily and  deported  himself  in  every  respect  as  a  gentleman. 

R.  E.  Lee. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

The  Egyptian  Army —  Eunuchs  important  beings  —  Polyglots  —  Anecdote 
(from  court  gossip)  about  the  two  Schnieders  —  Adventuresses  —  The  per- 
manent secretary  —  The  bounding  horse  Napoleon  —  Did  n't  cut  His  High- 
ness —  Napoleon  gets  me  in  and  out  of  trouble  about  being  too  fresh  with  a 
Princess,  a  flower,  and  a  dainty  lace  handkerchief  —  The  Khedive  orders  a 
wedding  to  amuse  the  Empress  Eugenie  —  Divorce  —  Harems  (pronounced 
hareems). 

The  Egyptian  Army  consisted  of  some  sixty  thousand 
men.  The  forts  were  in  a  dilapidated  condition  and  mostly 
manned  only  by  caretakers,  so  I  was  glad  to  find  that  my 
first  duty  was  to  be  on  the  personal  staff  of  the  Khedive. 
The  staff  was  very  large,  and  besides  the  military  officers 
there  were  six  equerries  in  most  gorgeous  uniforms.  I  had 
absolutely  nothing  to  do  and  spent  most  of  my  leisure  in  lis- 
tening to  court  gossip,  sub  rosa,  of  course.  What  astounded 
me  most  amid  my  new  surroundings  was  to  find  that  the 
eunuchs,  whom  I  had  always  thought  of  as  contemptible 
creatures,  were  in  reality  beings  of  great  importance,  and 
that  some  of  them  enjoyed  the  confidence  of  the  ruler  even 
in  state  affairs,  and  that  they  were  all  treated  with  the 
greatest  deference  by  the  highest  officials.  I  was  warned 
on  no  account  to  offend  one  of  them,  as  they  had  it  in  their 
power  to  do  harm  to  any  one,  no  matter  what  his  rank  might 
be,  to  whom  they  took  a  dislike. 

In  the  evenings  after  the  heat  of  the  day,  we  Americans 
would  sit  at  little  tables  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  the 
"circles,"  or  clubs,  of  which  there  were  several  located  on 
the  Ezbekiah,  and  pass  the  time  drinking  cooling  drinks 
and  talking.  We  soon  made  many  acquaintances  and  were 
astounded  to  find  amongst  them  so  many  men  who  could 
converse  in  half  a  dozen  or  more  languages;  the  Armenians 
and  Russians  especially  had  this  gift,  and  many  were  the 
amusing  stories  and  scandals  these  polyglots  related  to  us 
about  court  life. 


The  Two  Schnieders  275 

There  were  very  few  European  or  American  ladies  in 
Cairo  at  the  time,  and  the  Armenian,  Syrian,  and  Greek 
women  lived  very  much  the  same  secluded  life  as  did  the 
native  females,  and  like  them  never  went  abroad  unless 
veiled.  This  they  did  for  their  own  protection  against  in- 
sult, as  no  Moslem  could  understand  that  a  woman  with 
her  face  uncovered  could  be  respectable. 

The  Khedive  maintained  at  his  own  expense  a  magnifi- 
cent Italian  opera  house  which  he  had  built  for  the  presenta- 
tion of  Verdi's  "Aida,"  which  was  composed  for  him.  He 
also  had  an  opera-bouffe  company,  and  a  French  comedy 
troupe,  a  hippodrome,  and  circus.  For  female  society,  with 
a  few  exceptions,  we  were  dependent  upon  the  ladies  on  the 
other  side  of  the  footlights.  The  Khedive  was  very  fond  of 
the  company  of  the  stars  of  the  theatres,  and,  in  whispers, 
a  very  amusing  piece  of  gossip  was  told  about  one  of  his 
experiences  with  a  Madame  d'Albert,  prima  donna  of  the 
op6ra  bouffe.  Madame  d'Albert  was  beautiful  and  sang 
like  a  bird,  but  like  most  beauties  she  was  capricious,  and 
when  in  one  of  those  moods  had  not  the  slightest  respect  for 
either  royalty  or  stage  managers.  On  one  occasion  the 
Khedive  and  his  courtiers  were  seated  in  the  boxes  when  in 
the  middle  of  the  opera  something  displeased  the  "song 
bird"  and  she  refused  to  sing  any  more,  so  the  curtain  had 
to  be  rung  down.  His  Highness  was  furious  and  sent  for  the 
manager  of  his  theatres,  a  French  doctor,  who  had  become 
Burguerre  Bey,  and  swore  by  the  beard  of  the  Prophet  that 
he  would  no  longer  submit  to  D'Albert's  whims,  and 
ordered  Burguerre  to  telegraph  the  Rothschilds,  who  were 
his  financial  agents  in  Paris,  to  send  on  at  once  Mademoi- 
selle Schnieder,  the  most  famous  op6ra-bouffe  prima  donna 
in  Paris.  Now  it  happened  that  at  that  time  the  Khedive 
wanted  a  loan,  and  the  Rothschilds  were  negotiating  for  it 
through  Baron  Schnieder,  a  very  old  man,  a  banker,  and  the 
president  of  the  Imperial  Senate.  Burguerre  Bey,  never  tak- 
ing into  account  the  possibility  of  there  being  two  Schnied- 


276   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

ers,  sent  his  telegram,  which  read, "  Envoyez  Schnieder  coute 
qui  coute";  and  the  Rothschilds,  not  being  theatrical 
impresarios,  took  it  for  granted  that  the  message  related  to 
the  loan,  and  against  his  protests,  hurried  the  old  banker 
Schnieder  off  to  Egypt.  .  When  he  arrived  at  Alexandria  a 
harem  carriage,  escorted  by  a  couple  of  royal  eunuchs,  was 
waiting  for  him  on  the  dock.  He  was  hurriedly  taken  to  the 
railway  station  where  a  special  train  with  one  of  the  royal 
coaches  was  waiting.  He  was  whirled  up  to  Cairo,  placed 
in  another  carriage  and  driven  to  a  palace  in  the  suburbs, 
where  he  was  received  by  more  eunuchs  and  told  that  he 
was  immediately  to  take  a  bath.  The  old  gentleman  ob- 
jected, but  they  told  him  it  was  the  Effendina's  orders. 
After  he  was  well  boiled  in  the  Turkish  bath  he  was  laid  on 
a  couch  in  the  recuperating  room,  and  while  there,  probably 
thinking  of  the  comforts  of  home,  who  should  appear,  in 
dressing-gown  and  slippers,  but  the  Khedive  himself!  See- 
ing the  old  human  derelict,  the  lord  of  lords  threw  up  his 
hands  in  amazement  and  exclaimed,  "In  the  name  of  the 
Prophet,  what  are  you  doing  here?"  and  old  Schnieder 
replied,  "God  only  knows!"  Explanations  followed.  Old 
Baron  Schnieder  secured  the  loan  on  his  own  terms,  and 
shortly  afterwards  the  Khedive  secured  his  song  bird,  and 
all  ended  happily. 

The  Khedive  was  an  admirer  of  European  women,  and 
also  lavish  with  his  money.  If  he  dropped  his  handkerchief 
to  one  of  them,  and  she  picked  it  up,  her  fortune  was  made. 
This  became  known  in  Europe,  and  before  I  left  there  many 
were  the  beautiful  adventuresses  who  came  to  Cairo  seeking 
their  fortunes. 

There  was  a  little  Italian  by  the  name  of  Barro.  He  was 
merely  an  adventurer,  and  a  penniless  one  at  that.  He  went 
to  Cairo  and  after  looking  over  the  situation  disappeared 
for  a  time.  When  he  returned  he  was  accompanied  by  a 
wife,  the  most  marvelously  beautiful  woman  my  eyes  ever 
beheld.  Shortly  after  his  return  Barro  was  appointed  pri- 


The  Bounding  Horse  277 

vate  secretary  to  the  Khedive  and  was  made  a  bey.    He 
lodged  in  magnificent  apartments  and  set  up  a  carriage. 

In  the  British  departments  of  the  Government  there  is 
always  an  official  who  does  not  lose  his  job  when  there  is  a 
change  of  political  parties  in  power  —  he  is  called  the  "per- 
manent secretary."  The  Khedive  had  many  flames,  but 
Madame  Barro  seemed  to  occupy  a  position  among  them 
similar  to  that  of  the  British  permanent  secretary. 

Concerning  my  own  adventure,  it  is  necessary  to  explain 
that  from  my  boyhood  I  had  been  an  expert  trick  rider  and 
some  of  my  feats  caused  even  the  Bedouins  to  take  notice. 
They  rode  with  such  short  stirrups  that  it  would  have  been 
impossible  for  them  to  accomplish  the  same  stunts. 

When  the  Empress  Eugenie  was  the  guest  of  the  Khedive 
on  the  occasion  of  the  opening  of  the  Suez  Canal,  among 
many  other  beautiful  gifts  he  presented  her  with  a  bay 
Arab  stallion.  Now  this  color  is  unusual,  as  most  Arab 
horses  are  gray.  The  Empress  was  so  encumbered  with 
presents  that  she  left  many  of  them  in  Egypt,  and  among 
them  the  bay  horse.  From  that  time  the  horse  was  called 
"Napoleon."  The  Khedive  next  presented  him  to  General 
Loring,  who  was  an  old  cavalry  officer  and  a  fine  horseman, 
but  General  Loring  had  left  an  arm  on  the  battle-field  at 
the  storming  of  the  Belen  Gate  when  the  City  of  Mexico 
was  captured  by  the  American  troops.  The  horse  was  a 
plunger;  he  seemed  to  be  on  springs,  and  could  bound  into 
the  air  and  keep  up  his  bounds  like  a  bouncing  ball  for  a 
hundred  yards  or  more  without  cessation,  and  at  every 
leap  take  all  four  feet  clear  of  the  ground  to  a  height  of  four 
or  more  feet.  It  is  necessary  to  humor  the  mouth  of  a 
plunger,  and  General  Loring  could  only  shorten  his  reins 
by  carrying  them  to  his  teeth,  which  Napoleon  came  near 
jerking  out  the  only  time  the  general  ever  mounted  him. 
So  Napoleon  was  passed  on  to  me.  I  liked  the  bounding  and 
could  send  him  up  into  the  air  whenever  I  pleased  by  simply 
pressing  him  with  my  knees. 


278        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

One  afternoon  I  was  riding  Napoleon  beneath  the  gigan- 
tic fig  trees  which  line  the  sides  of  the  beautiful  Shubra 
drive  when  I  noticed  quite  a  commotion  among  the  throng 
of  people  in  carriages,  on  horseback,  and  on  foot,  who  were 
taking  their  recreation  after  the  heat  of  the  day  was  over. 
The  carriages  and  horsemen,  as  well  as  those  on  foot,  stopped 
and  stood  facing  the  road.  Then  I  heard  the  sais  yelling 
their  familiar  cries  of  "Owa!  Owa!  Riglek!  Eminak!  Shu- 
malak ! "  etc.,  which  in  English  would  mean  "  Clear  the  way ! 
Keep  to  the  right !  Keep  to  the  left !  Look  out  for  your  face ! 
For  here  comes  the  lord  of  lords,  your  master!"  etc.  The 
fellahs,  or  peasants,  fell  on  their  knees  and  placed  their  fore- 
heads on  the  ground.  The  better  classes  went  through  the 
motions  of  picking  up  dirt  and  touching  their  hearts,  lips, 
and  foreheads.  I  apparently  took  no  notice  of  who  was 
coming  behind  me  and  kept  on  my  way  unconcernedly.  As 
the  dozen  or  more  sais,  staff  in  hand,  and  the  great  white 
sleeves  of  their  costumes  fluttering  like  wings  behind  them, 
passed  me  with  the  speed  of  frightened  deer,  they  furiously 
called  down  maledictions  on  my  head.  Then,  at  the  gallop, 
came  a  troop  of  cavalry  of  the  Life  Guards,  whose  com- 
manding officer  seemed  to  fear  that  I  intended  to  cut  His 
Highness  and  cautioned  me  as  he  went  by.  Next  came  the 
royal  equipage  with  four  horses  guided  by  postilions,  and 
on  either  side  of  the  carriage  rode  an  equerry.  Men  told 
me  afterwards  that  they  had  held  their  breath  in  awe  for 
the  instant,  as  they  wondered  what  would  happen  to  the 
man  who  apparently  intended  to  cut  the  Effendina  in 
public. 

But  I  did  not  keep  my  audience  long  in  suspense.  As  the 
leaders  of  the  royal  landau  passed  me  I  sent  Napoleon  into 
the  air  and  coming  down  landed  him  front  face,  still  as  a 
statue,  at  the  same  time  making  my  military  salute.  The 
Khedive  half  turned  in  his  seat  and  leaning  over  the  side 
of  his  carriage  clapped  his  hands  in  applause,  and  shortly 
afterwards  sent  an  equerry  back  to  tell  me  to  come  along- 


The  Bounding  Horse  279 

side  his  carriage,  where  he  complimented  me  on  my  horse- 
manship. 

One  of  the  Khedive's  sons,  little  Prince  Ibrahim,  a  boy  of 
about  twelve  years  of  age,  took  great  delight  in  seeing 
Napoleon  leap,  and  when  driving  with  his  governor,  an  old 
English  general,  as  a  treat  would  be  allowed  to  send  for  me 
to  come  alongside  his  carriage  where  he  could  better  see  the 
"bouncing"  horse,  as  he  called  my  charger. 

On  one  occasion  the  bounding  horse  came  near  getting 
me  into  very  serious  trouble.  I  was  riding  on  the  famous 
Shubra  promenade  when  a  gorgeous  carriage,  in  which 
were  seated  two  ladies  with  very  thin  white  veils  covering 
their  faces,  approached.  I  was  new  to  the  country  and  did 
not  recognize  the  signs  of  a  royal  equipage  or  know  that  cus- 
tom required  that  I  should  turn  my  back,  or  at  least  look 
in  some  other  direction ;  so,  ignoring  the  etiquette  of  the 
court,  I  not  only  looked  at  the  houris,  but  also  pressed 
Napoleon  with  my  knees  and  sent  him  up  into  the  air.  The 
ladies  not  only  smiled,  but  also  looked  out  of  the  window  at 
the  back  of  the  carriage  and  one  of  them  threw  out  a  flower. 
My  horse  was  at  the  gallop  and  throwing  myself  out  of  my 
saddle  I  picked  it  up  without  breaking  his  stride  or  parting 
company  with  him.  The  lady  evidently  liked  the  circus 
performance,  for  she  kept  on  throwing  flowers.  Her  carriage 
was  accompanied  by  two  splendidly  mounted  eunuchs  and 
two  more  of  these  creatures  were  seated  on  the  box.  The 
mounted  guard  was  well  ahead,  so  they  did  not  for  a  time 
see  what  was  going  on,  but  when  we  arrived  at  the  railway 
crossing  there  was  a  jam  and  I  put  my  horse  right  alongside 
the  carriage.  The  lady  reached  out  and  placed  in  my  hand 
a  bouquet  with  a  dainty  handkerchief  wrapped  around  the 
stem.  Then  the  trouble  commenced.  The  eunuchs  began  to 
snarl  and  yell.  The  two  horsemen  dismounted  and  tried  to 
get  at  me  through  the  crowd.  One  was  waving  a  scimitar 
and  the  other  a  courbash  (a  whip  made  out  of  rhinoceros 
hide)  with  which  they  could  bring  blood  at  every  blow.    I 


280   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

stood  the  fellow  in  front  of  me  off  by  making  Napoleon  rear 
up,  but  the  creature  with  the  scimitar  was  fast  approaching 
through  the  tangled  mass  of  vehicles  from  behind.  Seeing 
an  opening  I  sent  my  horse  through  it  and  at  the  railway 
bars  which  were  down.  We  skimmed  over  the  first  one,  but 
as  we  bounded  across  the  railway  I  heard  the  express  com- 
ing and,  urging  the  game  animal  on,  we  leaped  the  second 
bar;  and  as  we  went  over  I  wondered  if  Napoleon  had  saved 
his  tail.  Going  on  at  full  speed  I  turned  into  a  very  narrow 
street  with  the  object  of  losing  my  pursuers,  but  there  was 
an  obstacle  in  the  way,  an  old  white-bearded  Arab  seated 
on  a  diminutive  donkey,  standing  right  across  my  path; 
but  it  was  no  time  for  hesitation,  so  I  sent  my  horse  at  the 
jump,  lifting  him  on  the  bit  and  striking  the  spurs  deeply 
into  his  sides  at  the  same  time.  The  agile  creature  rose  into 
the  air  like  a  bird,  and  as  I  passed  over  the  Arab's  head  I 
heard  him  give  a  groan  and  exclaim,  "Inch  Allah!"  ("It 
pleases  God.") 

Arriving  at  my  quarters,  which  I  shared  with  Count 
Sala,  one  of  the  Khedive's  equerries  and  a  rich  Armenian 
gentleman,  I  showed  them  my  trophy,  and  to  my  amaze- 
ment they  both  advised  me  to  go  to  the  American  Con- 
sulate while  yet  I  had  time.  Mr.  Ekezler  offered  me  money 
to  take  me  out  of  the  city,  which  I  indignantly  declined, 
telling  them  that  I  had  done  no  harm.  They  both  hastily 
left  the  house,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Nubar  Pasha,  the 
Prime  Minister,  called  on  me  and  told  me  that  "he  had 
heard  of  my  escapade  and  so  had  His  Highness  and  he 
wanted  that  handkerchief."  The  flimsy  piece  of  lace  was 
lying  on  the  table  and  I  picked  it  up  knowing  by  that  time 
that  he  wanted  it  for  evidence.  I  lit  a  match  and  set  it  on 
fire,  almost  instantly  destroying  every  vestige  of  it.  The 
Minister  was  in  a  rage  and  told  me  that  I  would  hear  more 
of  the  matter,  and  then  left.  That  night  when  I  went  to 
my  restaurant  no  one,  Christian  or  Mussulman,  would 
recognize  me  or  hold  any  intercourse  with  me  whatever, 


The  Khedive  orders  a  Wedding  281 

and  afterwards,  when    I  visited   the  clubs,  they  became 
emptied  as  though  by  magic. 

The  trouble  was  caused  by  the  fact  that  the  hand- 
kerchief had  embroidered  on  it  a  crown  and  the  initials 
"PF"  and  was  the  property  of  one  of  the  princesses.  This 
lady  was  not  unknown  to  fame  on  account  of  some  of  her 
escapades.  She  had  the  reputation  of  being  somewhat  of  a 
"  Marguerite  of  Burgundy,"  in  that  her  lovers  suddenly  dis- 
appeared and  were  never  heard  of  again.  I  heard  that  the 
Khedive  was  furious  when  he  heard  the  story,  but  there  was 
a  Countess  de  Lex,  wife  of  the  Russian  Consul-General, 
who  had  great  influence  at  court,  and  she  undertook  to 
plead  my  cause  and  persuaded  the  Khedive  that  I  was  a 
mere  foolish  boy  and  had  meant  no  harm,  and  so  the 
adventure  ended.  I  had  never  seen  the  Princess  before,  and 
certainly  never  saw  her  afterwards.1 

The  Khedive  Ismail  carried  things  with  a  high  hand,  as 
he,  by  the  laws  of  the  land,  was  entitled  to  do.  When  the 
French  Empress  visited  Egypt,  she  was  of  course  shown 
one  of  the  harems,  and  womanlike  of  course  expressed  a 
desire  to  see  an  Egyptian  wedding.  A  little  thing  like  that 
was  easy  to  arrange  by  a  man  who  by  simply  clapping  his 
hands  could  remove  from  this  mundane  sphere  any  one 
of  his  eight  or  ten  millions  of  subjects.  When  the  desire 
was  expressed  by  the  Empress  to  see  a  wedding,  the  hand- 
somest of  His  Highness's  native  equerries  happened  to  be 
standing  near.  He  was  a  perfect  picture  in  his  superb  uni- 
form. The  Khedive  turned  to  him  and  told  him  to  go  and 
prepare  himself  to  be  married  on  the  following  day.  Ibra- 
him replied  with  the  usual  "To  hear  is  to  obey." 

Now  this  preparation  to  be  married  must  have  been 
quite  an  ordeal,  as  besides  the  baths  there  were  a  certain 
number  of  visits  to  be  paid  to  mosques  and  many  prayers 
to  be  said.    The  Khedive  politely  asked  the  Empress  to 

1  For  an  account  of  this  adventure  see  "  My  Life  on  Four  Continents,"  by 
Col.  Charles  Chaille-Long,  formerly  of  the  Egyptian  Army.  —  J.  M.  M. 


282   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

choose  the  bride,  and  it  was  said  that  she  showed  great 
taste  in  selecting  a  beautiful  Circassian  girl.  This  poor  child 
must  have  suffered  dreadfully  while  they  arrayed  her  in 
her  wedding  garments  and  then  covered  her  from  head  to 
foot  in  a  gaudy,  heavy,  gold-embroidered  wrap.  Not  even 
her  eyes  nor  the  tips  of  her  little  feet  could  be  seen,  and 
in  this  guise  with  the  drums  and  shrill  reed  instruments, 
which  screeched  in  awful  discord,  and  the  "fantasia"  (men 
pretending  to  fight  with  spears  and  swords)  preceding  her, 
from  early  morning  to  sundown  she  had  to  promenade  the 
streets  under  the  scorching  sun  with  no  relief  from  any 
source  except  the  fans  waved  by  the  hands  of  two  shape- 
less bundles  of  clothes,  said  to  have  contained  girl  friends 
of  the  bride  inside  them.  This  weary  function  lasted  until 
the  sun  went  down,  and  the  ceremony  was  completed  by 
her  arrival  at  the  house  of  the  groom  into  which  she  was 
followed  by  her  female  relatives  or  friends.  Even  then 
she  had  another  ordeal  to  go  through  —  the  lifting  of  her 
veil,  which  is  done  by  the  groom;  and  once  he  has  seen  her 
face,  she  is  married.  But  the  bridegroom  does  not  get  his 
wife  yet,  as  she  is  then  taken  back  to  her  former  home 
where  she  stays  for  a  week  before  she  returns  to  live  for 
good  and  all  with  her  lord  and  master. 

Divorce  is  easy.  All  that  a  husband  has  to  say  to  his 
wife  is,  "Thou  art  divorced,"  when  he  gets  into  a  tantrum, 
and  the  wife  of  his  bosom  has  to  return  to  her  parents. 
However,  he  can  take  her  back  again,  if  he  wants  to,  unless 
he  has  said  to  her,  "Thou  art  thrice  divorced!"  —  in  which 
case  she  must  marry  some  one  else  and  get  a  divorce  from 
number  two,  before  she  can  remarry  her  former  master. 
This  is  easily  managed  by  the  rich,  who  free  a  slave,  have 
him  marry  the  divorced  woman,  and  then  quietly  have  the 
slave  bowstrung.  All  of  which  is  very  simple. 

The  power  of  the  Khedive  went  far  beyond  entertaining 
an  empress  by  making  two  people,  who  had  never  seen  each 
other  before,  get  married.    An  official  of  the  palace  could 


Harems  283 

go  into  the  field  of  a  fellah,  and  by  simply  saying,  "In  the 
name  of  the  Effendina,"  make  him  stop  work  in  his  own 
field  and  go  into  that  of  His  Highness,  or  into  any  one 
else's,  for  that  matter,  and  labor  without  reward.  His 
officials  could  in  the  same  way  commandeer  any  vehicle, 
horse,  ox,  ass.  They  could  go  to  the  riverside  and  com- 
pel any  dahabeah  (the  Nile  boat)  to  interrupt  its  voyage, 
discharge  its  cargo,  and  perform  any  service  which  the 
representative  of  his  master  ordered  him  to  do;  and  this 
silently  and  without  protest.  This  custom  was  of  course 
much  abused  by  officials  without  the  knowledge  of  the 
Khedive.  The  rights  of  foreign  governments,  however, 
were  very  scrupulously  respected,  and  any  Egyptian  sub- 
ject who  could  get  any  sort  of  employment  by  a  consulate 
was  deemed  fortunate,  as  neither  he  nor  his  property  was 
interfered  with;  and  these  protections  were  eagerly  sought 
after  by  the  rices,  or  owners  of  dahabeahs.  It  was  said  that 
the  price  of  American  flags  fell  suddenly,  and  they  fluttered 
from  the  mastheads  of  an  extraordinary  number  of  boats, 
enabling  their  owners  to  laugh  at  the  command  to  heave  to. 
One  word  more  about  that  much  misunderstood  (by 
Christians)  word  "harem."  It  does  not  mean,  as  is  gener- 
ally supposed,  a  collection  of  odalisques,  but  it  is  the  equiva- 
lent of  our  word  "family,"  and  includes  not  only  the  wives 
and  children,  but  the  mothers  and  grandmothers,  the  aunts 
and  cousins,  and  their  female  slaves.  A  wealthy  man 
maintained  a  great  number  of  women  in  his  harem  because 
it  was  a  part  of  his  state  to  do  so,  and  the  greater  the  num- 
ber, the  greater  the  consideration  in  which  he  was  held. 
Ismail  Pasha  had  many  palaces  containing  harems  into 
which  he  had  never  put  his  foot;  they  were  his  harems,  but 
possibly  were  legacies  from  his  predecessors.  The  Khe- 
dive's mother  always  made  him  a  present  of  a  beautiful 
Circassian  or  Georgian  girl  on  his  birthday,  and  it  is  very 
probable  that  he  never  took  the  trouble  to  see  any  of  them. 
How  could  they,  without  a  thought  beyond  making  toilets 


284   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  eating  candy,  interest  a  highly  intelligent  and  edu- 
cated man  accustomed  to  the  best  society  of  Europe? 

Much  sympathy  has  been  wasted  on  the  Oriental  women 
by  their  Christian  sisters.  Under  no  circumstances  would 
the  Moslem  ladies  change  places  with  them.  A  Mohamme- 
dan woman  measures  the  affectionate  esteem  in  which  she 
is  held  by  her  lord  and  master  by  the  number  of  eunuchs 
who  accompany  her  when  she  goes  abroad,  and  the  close- 
ness of  the  watch  kept  upon  her  while  in  the  harem;  and 
yet  she  has  a  certain  amount  of  liberty.  For  instance,  no 
husband  can  refuse  a  childless  wife  permission  to  go  alone 
to  Dhamanour  to  sit  on  the  sacred  stone  which  is  believed 
to  be  a  sure  cure  for  barrenness,  and  no  one  who  has  ever 
attended  the  feast  of  Dhamanour,  and  witnessed  the  scenes 
there  enacted,  leaves  with  the  slightest  doubt  about  the 
efficacy  of  a  visit  to  Dhamanour  in  such  cases.  And  there 
also  is  the  right  to  visit  the  public  baths.  No  eunuch  is 
permitted  to  accompany  a  woman  further  than  the  en- 
trance, and  the  woman  has  the  right  to  remain  in  the  baths 
as  long  as  it  suits  her  pleasure.  Closely  veiled  and  with  a 
voluminous  silk  gown  covering  her  from  the  top  of  her 
head  to  her  toes,  there  is  nothing  to  prevent  her  from  enter- 
ing the  door  and  immediately  turning  around  and  walking 
out  again,  passing  right  by  her  guardian  without  his  knowl- 
edge ;  for  where  there  are  dozens  of  similar  bags  containing 
women,  what  mortal  eyes  could  distinguish  any  particular 
female?  And  woe  betide  the  eunuch  that  interferes  with 
any  lady  not  belonging  to  his  master's  harem.  Such  is  the 
love  of  adventure  among  foreigners  that  many  have  been 
willing  to  risk  the  awful  penalties  of  invading  a  Mussul- 
man's home  so  as  to  be  able  to  boast  afterwards  that  they 
had  been  inside  of  a  harem.  By  treaty  with  the  great 
powers  a  Moslem  has  the  right  to  put  to  death  any  man 
caught  in  the  act  of  so  doing. 

The  eunuch  is  as  a  rule  faithful  and  devoted  to  his  mas- 
ter, and  the  master  indulges  the  creature  in  every  way. 


Harems  285 

Many  of  these  things  are  very  wealthy,  and  strange  to 
say,  they  buy  beautiful  slaves  to  wait  upon  them  in  their 
own  private  homes,  and  their  conversation  is  almost  en- 
tirely restricted  to  the  subject  of  women  and  their  perfec- 
tions. Of  course  there  are  some  disloyal  scoundrels  among 
the  eunuchs,  at  least  there  were  said  to  be.  I  remember  one 
in  particular  who  was  nearly  seven  feet  in  height  and  as 
slender  as  a  flagstaff.  I  do  not  know  that  he  was  unfaith- 
ful, but  at  all  events  he  made  a  very  good  income  by  mak- 
ing gullible  young  men  believe  that  he  was.  His  method 
was  very  simple;  he  would  hang  around  Shepheard's  Hotel 
and  pick  out  some  rich  young  tourist  and  tell  him  that  a 
wonderfully  beautiful  inmate  of  his  master's  harem  had 
seen  him  and  fallen  in  love  with  him,  and  as  she  was  his 
(the  eunuch's)  favorite,  he  had  consented  to  assist  her  in 
her  love  affair,  and  that  if  the  proposed  victim  would  make 
an  appointment  with  him,  as  his  master  was  out  of  the 
city,  he,  the  eunuch,  would  facilitate  their  meeting,  etc.  He 
would  then  accompany  his  dupe  through  dark  and  narrow 
streets  to  the  rear  of  the  garden  wall  surrounding  his  mas- 
ter's palace,  unlock  a  small  door  and  lead  him  into  the 
grounds,  and  when  he  had  got  him  some  distance  inside 
he  would  turn  upon  him  and  demand  a  large  sum  of  money, 
threatening  to  give  the  alarm  if  it  was  not  instantly  forth- 
coming. Sefar  Pasha,  the  brute's  master,  and  an  apostate 
Austrian  who  had  amassed  great  wealth  and  also  stood 
high  in  the  esteem  of  both  the  Sultan  and  the  Khedive, 
used  to  get  great  merriment  out  of  the  facetiousness  of  his 
confidential  slave.  He  used  to  say  that  doubtless  more 
Leanders  boasted  of  having  invaded  the  sacred  precincts 
of  his  harem  than  that  of  any  other  pasha  or  bey,  but  he 
doubted  if  any  of  them  ever  boasted  of  the  amount  it  cost 
them  simply  to  pass  the  garden  gate.  Sefar  undoubtedly 
was  in  the  confidence  of  the  rascal.  When  Arabi  Bey 
raised  his  rebellion  in  Egypt  the  inmates  of  Sefar  Pasha's 
harem,  in  common  with  many  others,  were  turned  out 


286   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

on  to  the  streets  of  Cairo  to  prevent  their  starving  inside 
of  their  gilded  cages. 

The  first  wife  of  a  Moslem  is  selected  for  him  by  his 
mother  or  nearest  female  relative ;  the  second  wife  is  chosen 
by  the  first;  numbers  one  and  two  choose  the  third;  and 
one,  two,  and  three  select  the  fourth;  and  it  is  said  that 
they  search  the  harems  for  the  most  beautiful  girl  that  can 
be  found.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  Moslem  women  are 
not  supposed  to  have  souls,  but  a  true  believer  can  have  as 
members  of  his  houri  harem  in  paradise  as  many  of  his 
earthly  wives  as  he  chooses,  so  the  only  chance  of  a  here- 
after for  the  women  is  to  please  their  lords  so  well  that  said 
lords  will  ask  for  them  when  they  get  to  paradise. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

Egyptian  Army  splendidly  drilled  in  manual  of  arms  and  tactics  —  American 
officers  dine  with  the  Effendina  —  Sham  battle  —  Napoleon  disgraces  me  — 
Feast  of  the  Dosse  —  Marriage  of  the  Nile  —  Offend  Arabi  Bey  and  am  sent  to 
Rosetta  —  Sailing  on  the  great  canal  —  Rosetta  —  A  deserted  palace  —  See 
ghosts  which  turn  out  to  be  lepers  —  Accept  hospitality  of  an  Armenian  — 
Commander  of  garrison  not  overjoyed  to  see  me. 

When  we  American  officers  entered  the  Egyptian  Army 
it  was  composed  of  some  sixty  thousand  well-drilled  men. 
The  French  officers  who  had  preceded  us  had  done  won- 
ders with  them  in  this  respect,  and  in  the  manual  of  arms 
it  would  have  put  the  West  Point  cadets  on  their  mettle 
to  have  excelled  any  infantry  regiment  of  the  line.  The 
Egyptian  rapid  formation  of  squares  from  fours  to  whole 
brigades  was  a  marvel  to  us.  Ever  since  Napoleon  beat 
off  the  Mameluke  cavalry  under  the  shadow  of  the  Pyra- 
mids their  whole  idea  of  military  strategy  centred  on  the 
formation  of  squares. 

We  had  not  been  very  long  in  Egypt  before  some  forty 
thousand  men  of  all  branches  of  the  service  were  gathered 
around  Cairo  to  take  part  in  a  grand  sham  battle.  I  was 
temporarily  assigned  to  General  Stone's  staff  for  the  occa- 
sion. General  Stone  was  to  command  one  army  and  Lieu- 
tenant-General Ratib  Pasha,  commander-in-chief  of  the 
Egyptian  Army,  was  to  command  the  other. 

The  evening  of  the  day  before  the  battle,  the  Khedive 
gave  a  grand  banquet  to  which  the  American  officers  were 
invited.  On  the  right  of  His  Highness  sat  Nubar  Pasha,  the 
Prime  Minister,  and  on  his  left  General  Charles  P.  Stone, 
chief-of -staff.  Opposite  the  Effendina  sat  General  Loring, 
with  me,  away  out  of  my  rank,  on  his  left.  My  being  placed 
so  far  above  many  officers  who  should  have  had  my  seat 
of  honor  was  because  Loring  could  not  speak  French,  the 


288        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

language  of  the  court,  and  needed  me  to  interpret  for  him, 
and  also  to  assist  him,  as  he  had  but  one  arm. 

"Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown."  While  the 
banquet  was  magnificent,  there  was  one  sinister  formality 
which  gave  me  the  creeps.  Alongside  of  the  Khedive's  dinner 
plate  was  another  and  larger  plate  which  was  never  removed 
between  the  courses.  When  a  dish  was  passed  to  His  High- 
ness he  helped  himself  plentifully,  —  he  was  a  good  trench- 
erman, —  and  then  he  cut  his  portion  in  two  and  placed  half 
of  it  on  the  extra  plate ;  and  when  we  were  through  dinner 
the  Khedive's  private  chemist  took  the  plate  and  contents 
and  carried  them  to  his  laboratory  where  he  analyzed  them 
in  a  search  for  poison.  This  performance,  I  was  told,  was 
gone  through  after  every  meal. 

During  the  dinner  His  Highness  said  a  few  pleasant  words 
to  each  of  the  American  officers  —  to  me  he  said  that  he 
would  look  forward  to  seeing  "that  bounding  horse"  on  the 
morrow,  and  asked  if  I  thought  so  nervous  an  animal  would 
stand  fire.  General  Stone  answered,  laughingly,  that  with 
me  on  him,  he  would  have  to  stand  fire.  I  had  intended  to 
ride  a  more  sedate  charger,  but  after  that  remark,  which  I 
regarded  as  a  challenge,  I  decided  to  ride  Napoleon  —  and 
Napoleon  disgraced  me. 

At  a  critical  time  during  the  action  General  Stone  sent 
me  with  an  order  to  the  pasha  commanding  his  artillery  to 
move  certain  batteries,  which  were  massed  on  a  small  knoll, 
to  another  position,  as  Ratib  Pasha  was  trying  to  pass  some 
troops,  under  cover  of  another  hill,  to  a  position  in  their  rear. 
The  infantry  were  blazing  away  down  the  whole  line  and  I 
passed  like  a  whirlwind  along  the  whole  length  of  it,  going 
so  fast  that  "Naboleone"  (as  the  natives  called  him)  could 
not  have  stopped  if  he  had  wanted  to;  but  alas,  as  I  dashed 
among  the  heavy  guns,  which  were  making  a  fearful  uproar, 
and  came  to  a  halt  in  front  of  the  pasha,  saluted,  and  was 
passing  him  the  order,  I  felt  myself  sinking,  and  I  continued 
to  sink  until  my  feet  were  on  the  ground,  while  the  poor 


Feast  of  the  Dosse  289 

frightened  brute  shivered  between  my  legs.  The  horse  was 
actually  so  terrified  by  the  artillery  that  his  legs  had  given 
way  under  him  and  he  was  resting  with  his  belly  on  the 
sand.  I  used  the  spurs,  but  they  had  no  effect.  The  pasha 
smiled  in  an  amused  way  and  maliciously  told  me  to  return 
and  report  to  the  general  that  the  order  would  be  obeyed. 
I  knew  as  well  as  he  did  that  I  could  not  move,  but  I  gave 
him  a  surprise  by  telling  him  that  it  was  necessary  for  me  to 
remain  until  the  change  had  been  made.  That  was  too  much 
for  even  the  stoicism  of  the  Arab  pasha  and  I  could  dis- 
tinctly hear  his  loud  laugh  despite  the  booming  of  the  guns. 
When  the  artillery  stopped  firing  preparatory  to  limbering 
up,  Napoleon  sprang  into  the  air  with  a  wonderful  bound 
and  as  he  came  down  to  earth  again  he  started  to  run.  I 
made  no  effort  to  stop  him,  being  too  thankful  to  escape 
from  my  ridiculous  position. 

The  day  after  the  sham  battle  we  attended  the  feast  of  the 
Doss6  where  we  saw  fanatics  lie  on  their  backs  as  close  to- 
gether as  sardines  in  a  box,  and  form  a  living  pathway  five 
hundred  or  more  yards  in  length.  The  thousands  of  specta- 
tors formed  living  walls  on  each  side  of  this  human  road,  and 
then  came  some  fifty  priests  in  front,  and  as  many  behind, 
the  high  priest,  mounted  on  a  snow-white  stallion,  and  they 
walked  over  the  prostrate  bodies.  The  horse  alone  showed 
any  disinclination  to  step  on  the  human  beings.  He  had  to 
be  pushed  from  behind  to  make  him  put  his  foot  on  the 
first  body,  and  they  had  much  difficulty  in  making  him  do  it. 
The  Arabs  pretend  to  believe  that  the  prostrate  fanatics  are 
so  holy  that  the  hoofs  of  the  horse  do  not  hurt  them,  but  I 
noticed  that  the  instant  the  animal  passed  over  a  body  the 
man  was  lifted  up  and  carried  away  —  not  one  was  allowed 
to  get  up  by  himself,  so  no  one  could  prove  that  any  ribs 
were  broken.  As  soon  as  the  horse  and  rider  reached  the  end 
of  the  living  pathway,  the  immense  throng  of  people  made 
a  rush  for  them  and  began  to  pull  out  the  hairs  of  the  ani- 
mal's beautiful  flowing  mane  and  tail  for  sacred  relics. 


290   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

When  they,  or  as  many  of  them  as  could  get  near  enough  to 
pluck  a  hair,  were  satisfied,  the  horse's  tail  was  as  bare  as 
that  of  a  rat.  He  belonged  to  the  Prophet's  breed,  as  could 
be  easily  distinguished  by  the  three  red  marks  across  the 
nose.  These  marks  are  inherited  from  Mohammed's  mare, 
and  were  caused  by  the  Prophet  having,  after  some  great 
victory  over  the  accursed  unbeliever,  wiped  the  blood  from 
his  dripping  scimitar  with  his  fingers  and  then  wiped  the 
gory  fingers  on  the  nose  of  his  mare.  No  one  save  the  Sul- 
tan, the  Khedive,  the  Sheik  Ul  Islam,  and  one  or  two  other 
high  church  dignitaries  are  allowed  to  mount  horses  of 
this  breed. 

This  feast  of  the  Dosse,  I  am  glad  to  say,  is  no  longer  tol- 
erated by  Egypt's  present  rulers.  Nor  is  the  one  of  the 
"marriage  of  the  Nile,"  when  the  banks  of  the  river  were  cut 
and  the  water  allowed  to  escape  into  the  grand  canal ;  then 
they  took  a  young  virgin,  arrayed  in  a  bridal  costume,  in  a 
boat  to  the  middle  of  the  river,  and  as  the  waters  broke 
through  the  bank  dumped  her,  bound  hand  and  foot,  over- 
board. 

I  must  say  that  at  this  time  I  very  much  enjoyed  Cairo 
with  its  many  state  functions,  but  I  suppose  that  General 
Stone  thought  that  a  little  work  would  be  beneficial  for  my 
health,  for  he  sent  me  to  the  staff  of  General  Loring,  in- 
spector-general of  infantry,  and  it  did  not  take  me  very  long 
to  get  myself  into  trouble  with  a  very  influential  personage 
—  one  Arabi  Bey,  who  afterwards  headed  the  great  rebel- 
lion. General  Loring  and  I  inspected  his  regiment  which 
was  stationed  at  the  Abbassia,  in  the  suburbs  of  Cairo.  It 
was  very  early  in  the  morning  when  the  regiment  was  drawn 
up  in  line,  and  I  became  very  suspicious  about  the  number 
of  men  who  were  suddenly  seized  with  a  desire  to  pray.  (A 
Mussulman  has  to  pray  whenever  the  notion  strikes  him, 
and  under  no  circumstances  must  any  one  interfere  with 
him  when  at  his  devotions.)  A  private  would  suddenly  hand 
his  gun  to  a  man  alongside  of  him,  face  in  the  direction 


Offend  Arabi  Bey  291 

he  supposed  Mecca  to  be,  raise  his  arms,  start  his  prayer, 
and  we  had  to  pass  him  by  without  inspection  of  either  his 
uniform,  accoutrements,  or  gun.  It  was  a  good  ruse,  but  a 
cursory  glance  convinced  me  that  a  gun,  badly  out  of  order, 
was  the  cause  of  the  devout  feeling  which  had  come  over  him, 
and  in  my  notebook  I  recorded  all  of  these  weapons  as  unfit 
for  service.  General  Loring  incorporated  these  notes  in  his 
report,  with  the  result  that  the  Minister  of  War  admonished 
Arabi,  and  Arabi  defended  himself  by  saying  that  the  bad 
report  was  only  caused  by  my  religious  prejudices,  as  could 
be  easily  proved  by  the  fact  that  I  had  reported  only  the 
guns  of  men  engaged  in  prayer  as  being  out  of  order.  The 
Minister  sent  for  General  Loring  and  myself  and  quite 
plainly  intimated  that  if  I  expected  to  remain  in  Egypt  it 
would  be  advisable  for  me  to  drop  some  of  my  Christian 
prejudices.  I  felt  outraged,  but  at  the  same  time  flattered, 
as  it  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  been  accused  of  harboring 
an  excess  of  Christian  zeal.  General  Loring  was  also  angry, 
and  he  ordered  me  to  re-inspect  Arabi's  regiment  the  next 
morning  —  and  to  bring  some  of  the  guns  back  with  me,  as 
samples. 

I  arrived  at  the  garrison  about  dawn  and  found  Arabi 
seated  on  his  prayer  carpet,  in  front  of  his  quarters,  busily 
engaged  in  his  devotions.  I  presented  the  order,  and  at  first 
he  refused  to  obey  it,  but  on  reflection  he  ordered  out  his 
command.  The  inspection  was  soon  over,  as  I  seized  only 
half  a  dozen  guns  belonging  to  men  engaged  in  prayer, 
knowing  them  to  be  the  ones  I  wanted.  I  made  my  sais 
carry  the  guns,  and  returned  to  the  general's  quarters.  I 
was  ordered  to  take  them  to  the  citadel  and  show  them  to 
the  Minister,  who  seemed  to  be  as  angry  as  Arabi  was,  de- 
spite the  fact  that  the  guns  were  disgracefully  out  of  order. 
A  few  days  afterwards  I  received  an  order  to  go  to  Rosetta 
to  inspect  some  old  cannon  there  which  doubtless  had  not 
been  used  or  cleaned  since  the  day  when  Nelson's  guns  had 
roared  at  Aboukir. 


292   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

My  orders  were  explicit.  I  was  to  embark  on  a  dahabeah 
and  go  through  the  Mamoudeah  Canal  to  the  Rosetta 
Branch  of  the  Nile  and  down  that  stream  to  Rosetta.  I  was 
to  take  my  horse  with  me,  and  an  Arab  officer  who  spoke 
French  was  to  accompany  me  as  interpreter.  The  order 
also  informed  me  that  all  necessary  arrangements  had  been 
made  for  my  comfort  on  the  voyage  and  after  I  arrived  at 
my  destination.  However,  knowing  something  about  Egyp- 
tian ways  by  this  time,  I  took  the  precaution  of  having  a 
large  basket  of  provisions  prepared  for  me  at  my  restaurant 
—  and  well  it  was  for  me  that  I  did  so.  For  I  not  only  did 
not  find  any  food  on  the  dahabeah,  but  I  also  found  that  the 
young  Arab  officer  expected  me  to  furnish  him  with  rations. 

We  sailed  smoothly  over  the  placid  waters  of  the  canal 
while  I  amused  myself  watching  the  novel  scenery,  the  fel- 
laheen, male  and  female,  old  men  and  women,  and  little  chil- 
dren working  in  the  fields  with  their  short-handled  hoes, 
leading  water  from  the  smaller  canals  on  the  higher  levels 
to  the  plants  they  wished  to  irrigate.  The  dignified  ibis 
strutted  fearlessly  among  them,  or  perched  on  the  backs  of 
buffaloes,  seeking  vermin,  and  their  snow-white  feathers 
made  a  pretty  contrast  to  the  black  hides  of  the  animals. 
Along  the  banks  of  the  canal  men  were  lifting  water  to  the 
higher  levels  with  the  same  machinery  used  by  their  fore- 
fathers in  the  time  of  Moses,  namely,  in  baskets. 

As  we  glided  along  I  was  for  a  time  much  mystified  by 
seeing  boys  of  eight  or  ten  years  of  age  apparently  stand- 
ing in  the  water  up  to  their  waists  as  the  boat,  which  I 
knew  drew  five  or  six  feet  of  water,  passed  so  close  that  I 
could  almost  have  touched  them.  I  soon  discovered  that 
they  were  herders  and  were  seated  on  the  backs  of  water 
oxen  which  were  feeding  on  the  grasses  which  grew  at  the 
bottom  of  the  canal.  Each  boy  was  armed  with  a  sharp- 
pointed  stick  with  which  he  prodded  the  beast  when  he 
wanted  him  to  go  ashore  to  resume  work. 

I  also  made  another  discovery,  and  that  was  that  Mah- 


A  Deserted  Palace  293 

moud,  my  interpreter,  did  not  know  as  much  French  as  I 
did  Arabic,  and  this  was  not  reassuring. 

At  the  end  of  my  second  day's  journey  I  arrived  at 
Rosetta  at  about  nine  o'clock  at  night.  The  moon  was  at  its 
full,  and  the  moon  seen  through  the  dry  atmosphere  of  Egypt 
seems  larger  than  it  does  in  other  lands.  I  had  been  told  that 
every  arrangement  would  be  made  for  my  comfort  and  I  was 
glad  to  see  two  soldiers  with  a  wheelbarrow  come  down  to 
the  landing-place.  Mahmoud  surlily  tried  to  make  me  un- 
derstand something,  but  without  success,  and  as  the  boat 
touched  the  landing  he  leaped  ashore  and  I  saw  him  no  more 
that  night.  The  soldiers  put  my  trunk  on  their  barrow  and 
making  signs  for  me  to  follow  they  led  the  way  into  the  city 
with  me  trailing  behind,  leading  Napoleon,  whose  iron-shod 
hoofs  resounded  on  the  cobble-stones.  The  buildings  lining 
the  street  were  of  stone  and  magnificent  in  their  propor- 
tions, but  there  was  not  a  human  being  to  be  seen,  nor  a 
sound  to  be  heard,  save  that  made  by  my  horse's  feet  and 
the  squeaking  of  the  rusty  wheel  of  the  barrow.  After  walk- 
ing for  many  blocks  we  entered  what  once  must  have  been 
a  grand  palace  with  great  stone  columns  in  the  court  and 
most  imposing  stairs  leading  to  the  apartments  above. 
Napoleon  was  made  fast  to  a  column,  and  I  followed  the 
men  who  carried  my  trunk  upstairs,  where  they  deposited 
my  property  in  the  centre  of  a  room  that  must  have  been  at 
least  sixty  feet  long  by  about  forty  in  width,  and  then  they 
left  me,  I  thinking,  of  course,  that  they  were  going  away  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  me  some  food  and  bedding  for  the 
horse  as  well  as  myself  —  but  I  saw  them  no  more. 

I  sat  on  my  trunk  for  a  long  time  watching  the  moonbeams 
that  penetrated  through  the  great  windows,  which  were  de- 
void of  sashes  as  well  as  of  curtains,  until  the  loneliness  be- 
came so  oppressive  that  it  became  unbearable.  A  loud  snort 
from  Napoleon  decided  me  to  seek  his  companionship.  I 
found  the  horse  in  a  very  nervous  state,  but  my  presence 
seemed  to  quiet  him.  I  talked  to  him  and  soothed  him,  and 


294   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

when  he  seemed  contented  with  his  lot  I  went  out  on  to  the 
street  to  look  at  the  moon  and  take  a  little  stroll.  The  only 
living  thing  I  met  was  a  pariah  dog  that  snarled  and  disap- 
peared through  the  entrance  of  a  handsome  house.  While 
perfectly  harmless  to  natives  I  knew  that  these  wild  dogs, 
especially  when  in  packs,  had  a  great  aversion  for  Chris- 
tians, and  where  one  was  met  it  was  certain  that  there  were 
many  more  near  by,  so  I  determined  to  return  to  my  palace 
where  I  again  found  Napoleon  in  a  great  state  of  excitement, 
making  a  clatter  by  pawing  on  the  stone  floor  and  snorting. 
It  was  some  time  before  I  could  quiet  him,  and  then  I  sat 
down  resting  my  back  against  the  column  to  which  he  was 
made  fast.  Wearied  I  dropped  off  to  sleep,  but  was  soon 
startled  out  of  it  by  a  loud  snort.  After  soothing  the  animal 
I  dozed  off  again,  and  this  performance  was  kept  up  all 
night.  At  times  when  awake  I  thought  I  could  see  shapes 
flitting  about  among  the  shadows,  but  I  soon  came  to  the 
conclusion  that  what  I  saw  was  the  result  of  my  own  im- 
agination. At  last  the  horse  quieted  down  seemingly  re- 
signed to  the  situation,  and  I  fell  into  a  sound  sleep  and 
awoke  only  when  the  sun  streamed  into  the  portal.  When 
I  opened  my  eyes  I  was  astonished  to  see  a  dozen  or  more 
wretched  human  beings  standing  within  a  few  feet  of  me,  and 
as  soon  as  they  discovered  I  was  awake  they  commenced  to 
clamor  for  backsheesh  (alms) ,  so  my  spectres  of  the  lonely 
night  had  not  after  all  been  Cleopatras  and  Pharaohs,  or 
the  creation  of  my  overwrought  imagination.  One  of  the 
horrible  creatures  became  emboldened  and  came  quite 
close  to  me  extending  his  fearfully  distorted  hands.  One 
glance  and  I  knew  that  my  guests  were  lepers.  Horrified, 
I  hastily  saddled  my  horse  and  vaulted  into  the  saddle, 
throwing  some  small  coins  on  the  stone  floor  as  I  dashed  out 
into  the  street. 

At  the  full  gallop  I  went,  whither  I  knew  not.  Following 
the  street  to  where  its  end  touched  the  desert,  I  found  a 
small  bazaar  around  which  some  two  hundred  and  fifty  in- 


Accept  Hospitality  of  an  Armenian      295 

habitants  lived  in  an  almost  deserted  city  which  at  one  time 
had  sheltered  several  hundreds  of  thousands,  and  which 
now  eked  out  a  scanty  existence  by  supplying  the  niggardly 
wants  of  a  small  garrison  of  Egyptian  soldiers.  Rosetta 
had  once  been  a  great  commercial  city,  but  the  silt  of  the 
Nile  had  deposited  itself  to  such  a  depth  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Rosetta  Branch  that  vessels  drawing  more  than  three  or  four 
feet  of  water  could  not  enter  the  port  —  and  thus  was 
ruined  the  commerce  of  the  once  flourishing  city.  Here  it 
was  that  the  famous  "  Rosetta  Stone,"  the  key  to  the  hiero- 
glyphics, was  found. 

At  the  little  bazaar  I  procured  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  when  I 
had  finished  it,  an  Armenian,  who  kept  one  of  the  booths,  in 
perfect  English  offered  for  five  shillings  to  interpret  for  me. 
I  told  him  that  I  wanted  food  and  shelter  for  my  horse  and 
myself,  and  he  offered  to  accommodate  me  if  I  would  ac- 
company him  to  his  house  —  which  of  course  I  did.  I  never 
saw  what  the  inside  of  his  house  looked  like,  as  he  never 
invited  me  to  enter  it.  The  Oriental  Christian  keeps  his 
women-folks  secluded  almost  to  the  same  extent  as  do  the 
Mussulmans.  So  my  host  lodged  me  in  a  small  two-room, 
one-story,  stone  outbuilding  where  I  occupied  one  room 
and  my  horse  the  other.  Inducing  the  Armenian  to  accom- 
pany me,  I  went  to  the  barracks  and  showed  my  orders  to 
the  bey,  who  seemed  none  too  well  pleased  to  see  me.  A 
young  lieutenant  was  then  called  and  instructed  to  show  me 
the  cannon  that  were  to  be  inspected.  My  work  was  soon 
finished,  and  my  report  was  very  brief,  but  my  instructions 
compelled  me  to  remain  in  Rosetta  until  I  received  orders  to 
return  to  Cairo,  and  I  was  suffering  from  a  very  bad  case 
of  nostalgia  for  Cairo. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Khedive  always  just  to  the  American  officers,  but  it  was  difficult  to  obtain 
an  audience  with  him  —  Go  to  Alexandria  with  General  Loring  and  occupy  a 
royal  palace  —  Difficult  to  get  paid  —  Row  with  customs  officials  —  An 
Egyptian  military  banquet  —  I  have  not  rank  enough  to  entitle  me  to  a  seat 
at  the  table  —  Cabal  formed  against  General  Stone  —  I  am  sent  to  the  staff 
of  Ratib  Pasha,  commander-in-chief  of  the  Egyptian  Army. 

My  experience  while  in  the  Egyptian  Army  convinced 
me  that  so  far  as  the  American  officers  were  concerned,  they 
could  always  get  just  treatment  if  they  could  only  get  their 
cases  before  the  Khedive;  but  there  was  the  rub.  How  was 
one  to  get  an  interview?  This  was  generally  a  matter  of 
long  negotiation,  as  His  Highness  was  surrounded  by  as 
unprincipled  a  set  of  scoundrels  as  ever  accursed  the  throne 
of  a  prince.  To  get  through  this  cordon  was  almost  an  im- 
possibility. Only  one  American  officer  could  get  an  inter- 
view whenever  he  wished  it,  and  that  one  was  General 
Stone.  Had  he  occupied  himself  with  the  troubles  of  the 
others,  he  would  have  had  but  little  time  to  devote  to  his 
duties  as  chief-of-staff . 

General  Loring  was  ordered  to  the  command  of  the 
Department  of  Alexandria,  and  I  went  with  him  as  aide- 
de-camp.  An  old,  small,  and  dilapidated  royal  palace  was 
assigned  the  general  for  his  headquarters.  They  were  very 
commodious  and  very  uncomfortable.  The  faded  brocades 
and  silks  of  the  curtains  and  divans  were  in  rags,  and  moth- 
eaten  rugs  were  scattered  over  the  floors  which  did  not  look 
as  if  they  had  been  swept  since  the  days  when  some  of  the 
Pharaoh  princes  dwelt  there.  I  spent  one  night  under  its 
roof  and  then  fled  to  the  H6tel  d'Angleterre.  The  myriads 
of  fleas  and  things,  such  as  an  occasional  scorpion  dropping 
on  to  a  bed,  were  too  much  for  me. 

It  did  not  take  us  very  long  to  discover  that  we  were  not 
welcome  to  the  native  officers  and  that  we  had  been  placed 


Difficult  to  get  paid  297 

in  the  positions  of  opera-bouffe  soldiers.  For  instance,  the 
first  thing  General  Loring  did  was  to  make  a  requisition  for 
a  headquarters  guard  of  ten  men.  The  answer  from  his  sec- 
ond (?)  in  command  was  that  so  many  men  could  not  be 
spared  for  such  a  purpose.  The  general  then  demanded  a 
roster,  which  was  promptly  returned  reporting  twelve  thou- 
sand men  fit  for  duty!  The  matter  was  referred  to  the 
Minister  of  War,  who  of  course  sustained  the  native  pasha. 

Our  pay  had  fallen  in  arrears  several  months  and  there 
seemed  no  help  for  it.  As  I  have  said  before,  there  was  no 
pay  department.  One  month  we  would  get  an  order  for  it 
on  the  Khedive's  privy  purse,  and  the  next  on  a  custom 
house  —  any  place  where  there  was  supposed  to  be  a  little 
money,  it  did  not  matter  where,  and  when  we  presented  the 
order  we  were  met  with  a  bland  "Boukrah"  ("Come  to- 
morrow"), and  that  was  supposed  to  satisfy  both  us  and 
our  creditors.  Now  I  had  learned  that  the  Khedive  knew 
nothing  of  this  state  of  affairs,  and  that  he  would  be  very 
angry  if  it  should  ever  come  to  his  ears  —  so  I  decided  that 
I  would  either  get  my  money,  or  it  would  get  there.  My 
patience  was  exhausted,  and  I  determined  to  get  either  my 
pay  or  a  row  that  would  have  to  attract  the  attention  of 
His  Highness,  so  I  buckled  on  my  sword  and  pistol  and  went 
down  to  the  custom  house,  on  which  I  had  orders  for  several 
months'  pay,  and  was  received  as  usual  with  great  polite- 
ness and  firmness  and  told  as  usual  to  "come  to-morrow." 
With  equal  suavity  I  replied  that  I  had  come  for  my  money 
and  that  I  meant  to  have  it  —  that  I  had  any  amount  of 
leisure,  and  they  could  take  their  time  about  it. 

The  custom  house  was  situated  on  the  harbor  and  the 
only  entrance  into  the  city  was  through  a  sallyport  in  which 
I  took  up  a  position  amongst  a  lot  of  dry-goods  boxes.  By 
the  rules  of  the  port  the  custom  house  closed  at  four  o'clock. 
At  half-past  three,  I  was  told  that  I  must  leave  the  building, 
as  none  but  employees  were  permitted  to  remain  after  that 
hour.    I  replied  that  I  not  only  would  not  leave  unless  I 


298        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

received  my  money  first,  but  that  until  I  was  paid  no  one 
else  would  leave  unless  they  passed  over  my  dead  body,  and 
I  produced  my  regulation  Colt  from  its  holster.  At  this  the 
official  seemed  to  lose  his  half-contemptuous,  half-commis- 
erating smile,  and  he  retired  to  confer  with  his  chief;  then 
his  chief,  the  bey  himself,  came  out  in  high  dudgeon  and 
told  me  that  the  Effendina  would  be  very  angry  if  he  ever 
heard  of  my  actions,  and  that  I  would  be  dismissed.  In 
reply  I  asked  him  if  he  thought  it  would  be  a  very  dreadful 
thing  to  be  put  out  of  the  service  of  a  government  which 
could  not  raise  sufficient  money  to  pay  my  wretched  pit- 
tance. He  promised  to  pay  me  if  I  would  come  back  "to- 
morrow," and  I  laughed  in  his  face.  He  then  retired  to  his 
sanctum  and  sent  word  to  me  that  if  I  would  come  in  there 
I  would  receive  my  money;  but  on  surveying  the  advan- 
tages of  my  position,  I  declined  the  invitation,  simply  stat- 
ing that  the  money  must  be  counted  out  on  the  dry-goods 
box,  and  that  then  I  would  gladly  leave  —  and  the  money 
was  counted  out  to  me! 

That  night  I  received  a  visit  from  the  bey  and  he  fairly 
fawned  on  me  as  he  cringingly  begged  me  not  to  mention 
what  had  passed,  as  there  was  no  telling  what  might  happen 
to  him  if  it  came  to  the  ears  of  his  master  —  and  he  was 
right ;  for  the  Khedive  never  dreamed  that  we  were  kept  out 
of  our  pay  month  after  month  as  had  been  the  custom. 

The  native  pasha  who  was  second  in  command  nomi- 
nally, but  in  reality  first,  invited  General  Loring  to  a  ban- 
quet, and  I  was  ordered  to  accompany  my  chief.  We  en- 
tered a  carriage  and  drove  across  the  sands  for  some  three 
miles  before  we  arrived  at  the  garrison  where  the  pasha's 
headquarters  were  situated.  First  the  guard  was  inspected 
and  afterwards  we  were  ushered  into  the  banquet  hall.  Of 
course  General  Loring  had  the  seat  of  honor  on  the  right  of 
the  pasha  and  at  his  place  were  placed  a  plate,  knife,  fork, 
and  spoon,  in  the  European  style  —  the  natives  of  course 
eating  out  of  the  large  dishes  or  pans  with  their  fingers.  My 


GENERAL    W.    \Y.    LORING 

Taken  in  Cairo 


A  Difficulty  about  Rank  299 

chair  was  conspicuous  by  its  absence.  It  was  very  humili- 
ating for  me  to  have  to  do  the  interpreting  in  so  personal  a 
matter,  but  there  was  no  help  for  it.  General  Loring  told 
me  to  say  to  the  pasha  that  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for 
him  to  have  me  beside  him,  as  I  was  his  only  means  of  com- 
munication, and  besides  he  had  only  one  arm  and  frequently 
needed  assistance.  The  pasha  replied  that  I  could  stand  be- 
hind the  general's  chair.  I  was  never  so  near  becoming  a 
madman  as  I  was  while  translating  this  suggestion,  and  when 
I  had  finished  I  told  the  general  that  I  would  retire.  He 
begged  me  not  to  desert  him,  and  explained  that  no  offense 
was  meant  —  only  they  did  not  know  any  better.  Finally 
a  chair  was  brought  for  me  and  placed  by  the  general. 

I  was  indignant  with  General  Loring  for  the  excuse  he 
made  for  wanting  me  beside  him.  I  was  neither  an  inter- 
preter nor  a  valet  —  and  before  I  got  through  I  intended  to 
make  him  understand  it  too.  I  was  a  gentleman  at  home, 
and  I  intended  to  be  treated  as  one  in  Egypt.  It  appeared 
strange  to  me  that  I,  who  had  been  a  guest  at  the  Khedive's 
table  on  several  occasions,  should  not  be  considered  of  suf- 
ficient rank  to  sit  at  a  meal  in  the  company  of  these  cheap 
off-colored  beys.  I  had  had  enough  of  it,  and  I  intended  to 
sever  my  connection  with  His  Highness's  service  the  mo- 
ment I  could  get  hold  of  pen,  ink,  and  paper. 

The  next  morning  I  took  the  train  for  Cairo,  and  on 
arriving  there  went  straight  to  the  citadel ;  and  as  I  gazed 
on  the  great  square  between  the  palace  and  the  mosque,  — • 
the  scene  of  another  banquet,  when  Mehemet  Ali  invited 
the  Mamelukes  to  partake  of  his  hospitality  and  when  they 
were  inside  closed  the  sallyport  and  cut  loose  the  artillery 
into  them,  —  I  realized  that  I  was  not  the  only  man  that 
had  got  more  than  he  bargained  for  at  an  Egyptian  feast. 
The  artillery  could  not  have  been  worse  than  the  mortifica- 
tion I  had  suffered. 

After  a  short  wait  I  was  shown  into  the  presence  of 
General  Stone,  who  appeared  very  much  shocked  at  my 


300   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

story  and  frankly  told  me  that  the  affair  was  going  to  em- 
barrass him  greatly.  I  insisted  that  the  simplest  way  out 
of  the  difficulty  was  to  use  his  influence  to  have  my  resigna- 
tion accepted  immediately.  But  this  he  would  not  hear 
of,  and  instructed  me  to  return  to  him  in  three  days.  The 
chief-of-staff  was  very  suave  —  he  was  not  only  a  most 
accomplished  man  in  his  profession,  but  he  was  a  born 
manipulator  of  men.  Mott,  Loring,  Sibley,  Rhett,  Kennon, 
and  several  others  had  formed  a  cabal  against  him,  but  he 
had  handled  the  whole  crowd  as  though  they  were  so  many 
naughty  children;  and  before  he  got  through  with  them 
they  were  tame  enough  to  eat  out  of  his  hand  and  beg  for 
his  influence  when  they  wanted  any  favors  from  the  Khe- 
dive. It  was  not  extraordinary,  therefore,  that  he  bent  me 
to  his  will,  tore  up  my  resignation,  ordered  me  not  to  say 
another  word  about  the  matter,  as  it  would  greatly  annoy 
the  Khedive  if  it  got  to  his  ears,  and  then  informed  me  that 
it  had  been  decided  to  send  me  to  the  staff  of  Ratib  Pasha, 
lieutenant-general,  and  commander-in-chief  of  the  Egyptian 
Army.  This  detail  would  give  me  the  rank  of  a  lieutenant- 
colonel  and  all  danger  of  a  repetition  of  such  a  contretemps 
as  the  one  I  had  recently  been  subjected  to  would  be  at 
an  end. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

Ratib  Pasha  —  Attempted  suicide  gained  him  promotion  —  Ratib  is  pre- 
sented to  a  pretty  soubrette  —  And  calls  on  her  accompanied  by  his  staff  — 
The  commander-in-chief  is  peeved  —  The  Abyssinian  campaign  —  Ratib 
Pasha  the  only  court  favorite  faithful  to  the  Khedive  Ismail  in  the  hour  of 
humiliation  and  sorrow  —  The  Duke  of  Hamilton,  General  Mott,  and  the 
duel  that  did  not  come  off. 

Ratib  Pasha,  commander-in-chief  of  the  Egyptian  Army, 
was  not  an  imposing  figure  to  look  at ;  he  was  only  five  feet 
four  or  five  inches  in  height  and  could  hardly  have  weighed 
more  than  a  hundred  pounds;  his  features  were  not  at  all 
impressive,  and  they  were  of  a  dark  brown  tinge.  He  had 
risen  to  his  high  rank  suddenly,  and  like  most  military 
heroes  rejoiced  in  an  ugly  facial  wound  which  did  not  add  to 
his  persbnal  beauty.  The  story  of  his  promotion  was  typical 
of  the  methods  of  the  khedives  of  the  time  in  such  cases. 

Abbas  Pasha  was  the  ruler,  and  little  Ratib  was  one  of  his 
equerries.  Abbas  used  to  turn  him  into  ridicule  and  get  lots 
of  fun  out  of  him ;  but  one  day  Ratib  had  the  misfortune  to 
displease  his  master,  who  had  a  very  ugly  temper,  and  in  a 
burst  of  rage  Abbas  turned  upon  him  and  hissed  the  awful 
word  "Canzire!"  The  Arabic  language  is  prolific  in  epi- 
thets, but  not  one  of  them  conveys  the  degrading  insult 
incorporated  in  this  Arab  word  for  "hog."  One  might  pass 
over  lightly  being  called  the  "brother  of  a  sow,"  but  the 
plain,  unvarnished  name  of  the  unclean  beast,  when  applied 
to  a  gentleman,  demanded  either  satisfaction  or  death.  Now 
Ratib  could  not  challenge  his  lord  and  master,  so  he  did  the 
next  most  proper  thing  —  he  retired  to  an  antechamber 
where  there  was  a  little  parlor  pistol  lying  on  a  table.  This 
he  picked  up  and  fondled  fondly  for  a  moment,  and  then 
he  lay  down  on  a  divan,  placed  the  muzzle  of  the  toy  pistol 
in  his  mouth  and  pulled  the  trigger!  The  little  pellet  of  lead 
penetrated  the  roof  of  his  mouth  and  came  out  alongside  of 


302   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

his  nose.  Ratib's  nose  bled  in  sympathy,  and  he  soon  be- 
came a  gory-looking  spectacle.  The  surgeons  arrived  and 
quickly  performed  a  most  remarkable  operation  —  they 
inserted  a  small  silver  tube  in  the  hole,  which  served  to 
decorate  his  features  as  well  as  to  announce  to  the  world 
that  he  was  a  hero. 

Like  most  men  of  quick  and  high  temper,  Abbas  Pasha 
was  overcome  with  regret,  and  to  make  amends  promised 
Ratib  the  first  thing  that  he  thought  the  little  fellow  would 
like,  which  was  the  position  of  commander-in-chief,  on  con- 
dition that  he  would  recover.  Ratib  recovered  —  not  only 
recovered,  but  retained  his  position  under  the  reign  of 
Ismail  Pasha,  Khedive. 

When  the  quiet  and  politic  American,  General  Stone,  was 
made  chief-of-staff  of  the  army,  he  did  not  announce  himself 
with  a  blare  of  trumpets;  in  fact  he  kept  in  the  background, 
and  few  of  the  high  officials  were  aware  of  the  fact  that  a 
new  power  had  arisen  among  them  which  had  to  be  reckoned 
with.  Stone  worked  silently  and  unobtrusively,  but  he  had 
the  tremendous  leverage  of  the  Khedive's  power  to  help 
him;  and  soon,  without  depriving  Ratib  Pasha  of  a  single 
chevron  or  gold  tassel,  that  officer,  hardly  perceiving  the 
momentum,  gently  glided  into  what  Mr.  Cleveland  would 
have  called  a  position  of  "innocuous  desuetude." 

Such  was  the  general  to  whose  staff  Colonel  Charles 
Chaille-Long  and  I  were  detailed ;  and  when  we  reported  for 
duty  I  cannot  say  that  Ratib  appeared  overjoyed  to  see  us, 
despite  the  fact  that  we  had  been  told  the  orders  were  issued 
at  his  personal  request.  I  think  myself  that  Ratib  imagined 
it  would  give  him  a  little  prestige  among  the  natives  to  have 
a  couple  of  the  Americans,  who  were  regarded  as  curiosities 
from  an  unknown  land,  riding  in  his  train. 

Of  course,  with  my  usual  luck  I  soon  managed  to  fall 
into  disfavor.  My  fall  from  grace  came  about  in  a  most 
unexpected  way.  It  was  an  off  night  at  the  opera  bouffe, 
and   the  incomparable  Celine  Monthalon  was  charming 


Ratib  is  presented  to  a  Soubrette   303 

her  audience  with  the  wonders  of  her  delightful  voice  at 
the  Italian  opera,  the  famous  edifice  which  had  been  built 
by  the  Khedive  for  the  production  of  Verdi's  "Aida." 
During  an  entr'acte  I  discovered  that  there  was  a  large 
sprinkling  of  the  artistes  of  the  bouffe  and  comedy  com- 
panies in  the  audience  —  among  them,  seated  in  a  box, 
high  up,  I  spied  pretty  and  piquant  little  Mademoiselle 
Girardin,  the  charming  soubrette  of  the  opera  bouffe.  She 
was  accompanied  by  her  mother,  for  she  was  awfully 
proper  and  never  went  to  any  place  without  a  mother. 
(Duplan,  the  bouffe  tenor,  told  me  that  she  was  so  particu- 
lar in  this  matter  of  mothers,  that  this  was  the  third  she 
had  had  in  two  years  to  his  knowledge.)  I  went  up  to  the 
box  to  pay  my  compliments  and  was  enjoying  myself 
greatly  when  there  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  to  my 
astonishment  some  one  asked  for  me.  I  went  to  the  door 
and  came  face  to  face  with  my  chief  Ratib  Pasha!  I  could 
have  been  knocked  down  with  a  feather.  But  the  inter- 
view was  not  so  awful  as  might  have  been  expected  —  all 
that  the  great  man  wanted  was  an  introduction  to  Made- 
moiselle Girardin,  which  seemed  a  very  simple  matter, 
but  which  was  not.  I  asked  the  young  lady's  permission 
to  present  to  her  His  Excellency,  Ratib  Pasha,  commander- 
in-chief  of  the  Egyptian  Army,  and  the  little  minx  put  me 
to  confusion  by  flatly  denying  his  identity,  asserting  that 
I  was  always  trying  to  play  practical  jokes,  and  insisted 
that  she  did  not  believe  Ratib  was  any  kind  of  a  general 
at  all,  much  less  the  great  commander-in-chief.  Ratib  took 
a  seat  beside  her  and  began  the  agreeable  task  of  convincing 
her  that  he  was  indeed  the  great  and  only  human  being  of 
that  exalted  rank,  and  before  he  knew  what  she  was  up 
to,  the  little  scamp  in  petticoats  had  extracted  a  promise 
from  him  that  he  would  the  next  day  prove  to  her  that  he 
was  really  and  truly  "It"  by  calling  on  her  at  her  apart- 
ments, not  only  in  full  uniform,  but  also  accompanied  by 
his  staff!   By  this  time,  realizing  that  my  services  were  no 


304        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

longer  required,  I  quietly  sneaked  out  of  the  box  only  to 
be  heartily  laughed  at  by  my  young  men  friends  for  having 
been  run  off  by  "old  Ratib." 

The  next  afternoon  Colonel  Chaille-Long  was  absent 
from  headquarters  on  some  duty  (fortunately  for  him), 
when  His  Excellency  informed  me  that  he  wished  his  staff 
to  accompany  him  on  his  ride,  in  full  uniform.  Instantly 
it  flashed  through  my  mind  what  was  up,  and  I  swore  a 
mighty  internal  oath  that  I  would  not  accompany  him 
even  if  every  soubrette  in  the  trade  died  of  disappointment. 
When  the  appointed  hour  arrived  it  found  the  staff,  with 
the  exception  of  myself,  all  ready.  I  was  still  attired  in 
my  Presbyterian  parson  single-breasted  black  undress  uni- 
form coat.  The  pasha  appeared  in  full  regalia,  with  his 
broad  sash  across  his  sunk-in  chest  and  his  coat  so  covered 
with  embroidered  gold  flowers  that  only  here  and  there  was 
a  blue  spot  of  cloth  visible.  He  glared  at  me  for  a  moment 
and  remarked  that  he  was  under  the  impression  that  he 
had  told  me  he  expected  me  to  accompany  him,  and  I  re- 
plied that  "I  would  be  unable  to  ride  that  afternoon." 
He  then  ordered  me  to  remain  until  he  returned,  as  he  would 
have  something  to  say  to  me,  and  then  he  mounted  his 
horse  and,  accompanied  by  his  staff,  rode  away  to  conquer 
or  die. 

Ratib's  staff  consisted  of  some  twenty-odd  Egyptian 
officers  (exclusive  of  Colonel  Chaille-Long  and  myself), 
and  they  formed  quite  a  gorgeous  pageant  as  they  wended 
their  way  out  of  the  courtyard  and  into  the  street.  It  was 
the  hour  at  which  all  the  prominent  people  of  Cairo  went 
for  their  afternoon  promenade  on  the  fashionable  Shubra 
drive,  and  to  get  into  that  beautiful  avenue  they  all  had  to 
pass  by  the  apartments  of  Mademoiselle  Girardin. 

The  commander-in-chief  drew  his  staff  up  in  front  of 
the  soubrette's  house  and  dismounted,  doubtless  affording 
the  pleasure-seekers  much  amusement;  and  I  take  it  for 
granted  that  he  convinced  the  young  lady  upon  whom  he 


The  Abyssinian  Campaign  305 

called  in  such  state  that  he  really  was  a  general.  When 
he  returned  to  his  palace  he  asked  me  "if  my  conduct  was 
a  sample  of  the  discipline  I  had  come  so  many  miles  to 
teach  his  countrymen,  and  for  which  His  Highness  paid 
such  an  extravagant  price."  There  was  an  offensive  sneer 
on  his  face  which  I  resented,  informing  him  that  I  might 
be  a  mercenary,  but  that  I  would  never  put  His  Highness's 
uniform  to  such  a  doubtful  use  as  presenting  it  before  ac- 
tresses as  proof  that  I  was  one  of  his  officers.  Ratib  was 
furious.  For  a  moment  I  thought  the  little  fellow  was 
going  to  assault  me,  but  he  seemed  suddenly  to  change 
his  mind  and  hurled  himself  on  to  a  divan  instead,  where 
he  began  to  kick  and  scream  with  rage  like  an  angry  child, 
and  there  I  left  him.  After  this  scene  I  got  on  very  well 
with  my  chief,  officially,  as  he  had  no  desire  to  have  the 
cause  of  the  trouble  made  public  property ;  and  personally 
he  was  such  a  religious  fanatic  that  he  did  not  dislike  me 
any  more  than  he  did  any  other  Christian  dog. 

Ratib  had  in  his  composition  a  goodly  share  of  Oriental 
cunning  and  was  familiar  with  all  the  subtle  workings  of 
Egyptian  ways  of  bringing  about  results,  which  were  in- 
comprehensible to  the  American  mind.  For  instance,  the 
Khedive  decided  that  his  army  needed  a  little  exercise, 
and  to  give  it  to  them  he  sent  an  expedition  of  twelve  thou- 
sand men  down  the  Red  Sea  coast  to  castigate  the  Abys- 
sinians.  He  had  never  heard  the  Gilbert  and  Sullivan  song 
about  the  "torpedo  and  the  whale,"  and  little  dreamed  that 
Egypt  was  cast  for  the  part  of  the  whale.  Loring  was  im- 
mensely delighted  when  the  command  was  given  to  him. 
Ratib  Pasha  lay  low  and  said  nothing  until  just  before  the 
expedition  sailed ;  then  he  obtained  permission  to  accom- 
pany it  merely  as  an  onlooker  and  a  student  of  war  with 
no  authority  over  the  troops  whatever  so  far  as  Loring 
was  aware  of.  The  Oriental  gentlemen  who  knew  the  ways 
of  the  country  and  also  felt  kindly  disposed  toward  Loring 
shook  their  heads  knowingly,  but  did  not  dare  to  warn  him. 


306    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

The  army  landed,  but  had  not  gone  very  far  from  the 
coast  when  they  received  information  that  the  Abyssin- 
ians  were  coming,  some  thirty  thousand  strong,  to  attack 
them.  Now  the  Egyptian  Army  was  splendidly  drilled  and 
disciplined,  and  they  were  armed  with  Remington  breach- 
loaders,  at  that  time  one  of  the  best  weapons  in  use  in  any 
of  the  armies;  but  alas,  the  troops  did  not  know  how  to 
shoot  and  few  of  them  had  ever  fired  a  gun.  Powder  was 
too  expensive  to  be  wasted  in  target  practice,  and  what 
money  De  Lesseps  did  not  get  out  of  the  Khedive  for  his 
canal  was  needed  too  much  to  swell  the  fortunes  of  the 
court  favorites,  those  soulless  parasites  who  kept  the  khedi- 
val  treasury  drained.  If  fearlessness  of  death  constitutes 
bravery,  then  every  Egyptian  soldier  is  a  hero,  for  they 
have  not  the  slightest  dread  of  their  end.  They  come  from 
the  peasant  class  (fellahs)  and  are  not  aggressive,  but 
rather  than  attack  they  preferred  to  stand  still  and  be 
killed  like  sheep. 

Fortunately  for  Loring,  when  the  Abyssinians  appeared, 
Ratib,  who  had  no  idea  of  letting  Loring  reap  the  glory 
of  a  great  victory  while  he  himself  was  present  on  the  field, 
produced  from  his  breast-pocket  an  order  from  the  Minis- 
ter of  War  authorizing  him  to  take  over  the  command  of 
the  army  whenever  in  his  opinion  it  should  be  necessary, 
and  of  course  the  necessity  had  now  arisen.  Loring  was 
relieved  and  the  Abyssianians  poured  down  the  moun- 
tain-sides armed  with  all  sorts  of  antediluvian  weapons 
including  flintlocks,  swords,  and  rhinocerous-hide  shields, 
spears,  and  clubs.  They  rushed  up  to  the  Egyptians  and 
wrenched  the  breech-loaders  out  of  their  hands  and  used 
them  to  club  the  life  out  of  those  poor  wretches.  The 
slaughter  was  great  and  the  disaster  frightful.  But  it  did 
not  appear  that  Ratib  lost  much  in  prestige  so  far  as  his 
standing  at  court  was  concerned. 

My  remarks  concerning  the  fighting  qualities  of  the 
Egyptians,  it  must  be  remembered,  refer  to  a  time  before 


The  Duke  of  Hamilton  307 

Gordon  licked  his  Soudanese  army  into  shape  and  made 
them  fight  so  splendidly.  He  had  done  the  same  thing 
previously  with  the  Chinese,  and  always  insisted  that  they 
were  splendid  fighting  material  when  officered  by  Euro- 
peans ;  and  it  must  also  be  remembered  that  the  Soudanese 
and  Nubians  are  fighting  men  naturally,  and  very  different 
races  of  men  from  the  gentle  peasant  of  the  lower  Nile. 

To  the  everlasting  honor  of  Ratib  Pasha  I  must  say  that 
when  Ismail  Pasha,  Khedive,  was  dethroned  and  all  the 
parasites  who  had  drained  him  of  his  wealth  had  aban- 
doned him,  Ratib  Pasha  alone  followed  the  master  who 
had  been  so  kind  to  him  into  exile,  and  shared  his  impris- 
onment and  broken  fortunes. 

It  was  while  I  was  attached  to  the  staff  of  the  comman- 
der-in-chief that  a  personal  difficulty  occurred  in  Cairo 
which  caused  a  great  deal  of  gossip  both  in  Egypt  and 
Europe,  and  I  regret  to  say  that  I  was  partly  the  uninten- 
tional cause  of  it. 

The  Duke  of  Hamilton  had  come  to  Egypt  in  his  steam 
yacht  bringing  a  very  gay  and  noisy  party  of  young  men 
with  him.  It  was  shortly  after  he  had  met  with  great 
losses  on  the  turf  and  had  found  it  convenient  to  skip  to 
France  between  two  days  to  avoid  his  most  pressing  credi- 
tors. He  had  celebrated  his  arrival  in  Paris  by  sending 
all  Europe  into  convulsions  of  laughter  by  his  answer  to 
an  invitation  to  dine  with  his  cousin  the  Emperor  Napo- 
leon. It  read:  "Sire:  I  have  neither  the  clothes  nor  the 
manners  for  imperial  society."  The  duke's  creditors,  how- 
ever, were  amenable  to  reason  and  made  an  arrangement 
with  him  whereby  they  took  over  the  management  of  his 
enormous  estates  and  allowed  him  a  pittance  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand  dollars  a  year  until  they  could  pay  them- 
selves. 

The  duke  and  his  party  went  to  Cairo  where  they  took 
possession  of  Shepheard's  Hotel,  the  most  famous  caravan- 
sary for  Europeans  in  the  place  at  that  day,  and  they  made 


308   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

things  lively  for  the  rest  of  the  guests,  one  of  their  most 
favorite  amusements  being  footraces  through  the  long 
corridors  in  the  middle  of  the  night. 

If  there  was  any  trouble  brewing,  it  was  just  my  luck 
to  stumble  into  it.  There  was  a  rich  Englishman  by  the 
name  of  Fairman  visiting  Cairo,  and  he  and  I  were  not 
on  good  terms.  One  afternoon  on  returning  from  riding  I 
stopped  at  my  restaurant  and  went  in  to  dinner  just  as 
I  was,  dressed  in  my  undress  uniform,  and  carrying  in  my 
hand  a  light  riding-whip.  I  took  my  seat  at  a  table  where 
Colonels  Chaille-Long  and  Mason  were  dining,  and  after 
I  got  through  I  walked  out  of  the  room,  and  in  the  corridor 
met  Mr.  Fairman,  who  made  a  remark  at  which  I  took 
offense,  and,  losing  my  temper,  I  struck  him  with  the  whip. 
Mr.  Fairman  told  me  he  would  send  his  seconds  to  me  and 
we  separated.  But  on  reflection  he  decided  not  to  chal- 
lenge me. 

Now,  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Fairman  was  an  acquaint- 
ance of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  and  his  party,  and  shortly 
after  our  affray  he  was  seated  at  a  table  with  them  in  the 
garden  in  front  of  the  Villa  Shubra  (a  place  where  prome- 
naders  could  stop  for  refreshments),  and  who  should  enter 
the  grounds  but  Major-General  Mott.  Mott  knew  the  duke 
and  saluted  him  as  he  was  passing  the  table  where  the  latter 
was  seated  with  his  friends.  The  duke  courteously  invited 
Mott  to  join  his  party,  but  Mott  replied  that  he  would  do 
so  with  pleasure  if  it  were  not  for  the  fact  that  Mr.  Fairman 
was  present.  The  duke  was  naturally  offended  and  asked 
for  an  explanation.  Mott  replied  that  "under  no  circum- 
stances would  he  sit  at  the  same  table  with  a  man  who  had 
been  publicly  horsewhipped  and  had  not  resented  it."  The 
words  were  no  sooner  out  of  Mott's  mouth  than  a  sporty 
young  baronet  in  the  party  jumped  to  his  feet  and  de- 
manded Mott's  card,  saying  that  he  would  send  his  seconds 
to  him,  and  selected  the  duke  for  one  of  them.  The  duke 
carried  the  demand  for  an  apology  or  satisfaction  to  Mott, 


The  Duel  that  did  not  come  off  309 

and  the  latter  referred  him  to  me  as  his  friend  who  would 
carry  on  the  negotiations.  The  duke,  when  he  called  on  me, 
made  himself  so  agreeable  that  I  took  quite  a  fancy  to  him 
and  tried  to  point  out  a  way  by  which  the  matter  might  be 
dropped  without  having  recourse  to  a  hostile  meeting.  I  be- 
came so  confidential  with  him  that  I  told  him  his  young 
friend  would  not  have  a  ghost  of  a  chance  for  his  life  if  ever 
he  went  on  the  field  with  General  Mott,  who,  besides  having 
fought  several  duels  and  killed  one  man  to  my  knowledge, 
was  a  magnificent  swordsman  and  a  dead  shot  with  pistols, 
and  furthermore  it  was  useless  to  expect  an  apology  from 
him.  But  my  remarks  did  not  seem  at  all  to  dismay  the 
duke,  and  as  no  apology  could  be  had,  the  only  other  thing 
to  do  was  to  arrange  the  details  for  a  hostile  meeting.  These 
we  agreed  upon  in  the  most  amicable  spirit.  We  were  to 
go  to  Alexandria  and  the  party  was  to  stop  at  the  Hotel 
Abbatt  on  the  plaza,  and  the  next  morning  at  daylight 
repair  to  a  cemetery  in  the  suburbs  (the  one  where  one  of 
the  Apostles  is  supposed  to  be  buried) ,  and  there  let  our 
principals  blaze  away  at  each  other. 

At  daylight  on  the  morning  on  which  the  duel  was  ex- 
pected to  take  place,  General  Mott  and  myself,  carrying 
a  case  of  dueling  pistols,  entered  the  office  of  the  hotel  and 
asked  the  night  clerk  if  the  duke  and  his  party  had  yet  been 
called,  when  to  our  amazement  the  sleepy  clerk  replied  that 
they  had  left  the  hotel  at  2  a.m.  and  gone  aboard  their  yacht 
and  were  probably  by  that  time  far  out  at  sea! 

Instead  of  letting  the  matter  rest  there,  against  my  ad- 
vice General  Mott  wrote  a  letter  to  the  London  papers  in 
which  he  particularly  excoriated  the  Duke  of  Hamilton, 
and  brought  down  upon  himself  a  torrent  of  abuse.  The 
Duke  of  Hamilton  took  no  notice  of  him,  but  truth  compels 
me  to  state  that  I  afterwards  heard  that  the  young  baronet 
was  anxious  to  fight  and  that  the  duke,  having  no  intention 
whatever  of  allowing  him  to  be  perforated  by  Mott's  leaden 
pellet,  had  forcibly  carried  him  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

The  Franco- Prussian  War  —  Apply  for  leave  to  go  to  France  —  Wrecked  — 
Paris  in  sackcloth  and  ashes  —  A  generous  Jew. 

When  the  Franco- Prussian  War  was  at  its  height  several 
of  the  American  officers,  among  them  myself,  through  the 
Khedive  requested  permission  to  go  to  France  for  the 
purpose  of  studying  our  profession  on  the  battle-fields.  The 
answer  came  back  that  the  Imperial  Government  would  be 
pleased  to  receive  a  small  number  of  native  Egyptian  offi- 
cers, but  that  they  did  not  care  to  have  the  Americans  in 
His  Highness's  service.  I  had  a  great  desire  to  see  what  was 
going  on,  so  I  applied  for  leave  of  absence,  which  was  granted 
me,  and  I  took  passage  for  Marseilles  in  a  little  bark  be- 
cause it  was  a  cheap  way  of  making  the  voyage,  and  like 
everything  else  I  have  found  in  this  life  that  was  cheap  — 
it  was  "  bum." 

The  Tigre  was  supposed  to  be  a  steamer.  I  don't  know 
how  many  "cat"  power  her  engine  was  said  to  have  had, 
but  I  do  know  that  it  broke  down  whenever  it  felt  like  it. 
She  was  crowded  with  the  usual  polyglot  assemblage  of 
passengers  of  all  Oriental  nations  commonly  found  aboard 
ships  in  the  eastern  Mediterranean,  many  of  them  —  in  fact 
whole  families  —  camping  on  the  upper  deck  for  economical 
reasons.  The  filth  of  the  vessel  was  indescribable.  I  shared 
my  stateroom  with  a  young  Jew  who  spoke  several  lan- 
guages and  was  both  highly  educated  and  refined.  All  went 
well  enough  until  after  we  passed  through  the  Strait  of 
Bonifacio  and  struck  the  mistral,  which  was  blowing  a  gale. 
We  were  off  the  lies  de  Hier  on  the  French  coast,  bucking 
the  heavy  sea  without  making  any  headway,  when  our 
miserable  little  coffee-mill  of  an  engine  broke  down.  The 
ship  was  hastily  put  under  sail,  and  thinking  that  she  was 
riding  the  seas  nicely  I  turned  into  my  bunk  and  went  to 


Wrecked  311 

sleep,  only  to  be  suddenly  awakened  some  time  in  the  middle 
watch  by  an  awful  crash.  Rushing  on  deck  I  found  that 
both  fore  and  mainmast  had  gone  by  the  board.  Nearly 
every  man  on  deck  had  appointed  himself  captain  and  was 
frantically  bellowing  orders  to  which  no  one  else  paid  the 
slightest  attention.  There  was  a  perfect  Babel  of  tongues  at 
work.  The  spars,  held  by  their  rigging,  were  acting  as  bat- 
tering-rams against  the  wooden  sides  of  the  ship,  and  it  was 
evident  that  she  would  not  be  able  to  stand  the  punishment 
for  very  long.  The  passengers  rushed  for  the  boat  davits 
and  began  to  lower  the  boats,  a  difficult  feat  even  for  sailors 
to  perform  in  such  a  seaway.  As  the  boats  touched  the 
water  the  poor  wretches,  like  a  frightened  flock  of  sheep, 
leaped  over  the  side,  more  alighting  in  the  sea  than  in  the 
boats,  sufficient  numbers,  however,  landing  in  them  to 
cause  them  to  swamp.  But  strange  to  say  several  of  them 
got  away  and  reached  the  shore  which  was  only  a  few  miles 
away. 

My  roommate,  Mr.  Suarez,  made  several  starts  for  the 
boats,  but  I  dissuaded  him.  When  day  broke  the  Tigre  was 
sinking  fast  by  the  stern,  but  fortunately  both  sea  and  wind 
had  gone  down.  There  was  a  very  small  dinghy,  used  as  a 
market  boat  in  port,  fastened  bottom  up  on  the  poop  deck, 
and  on  this  boat  I  had  had  my  eyes  fastened  for  some  time, 
knowing  that  no  one  else  would  think  of  taking  her.  When 
at  daylight  Mr.  Suarez  and  I  found  ourselves  alone  on  the 
fast-sinking  bark,  I  turned  this  little  boat  over  and  found 
her  oars  fastened  under  the  thwarts.  The  bow  of  the  Tigre 
was  standing  high  out  of  the  water  and  her  taffrail  was 
submerged,  so  without  difficulty  I  launched  our  pygmy 
craft  and  leaped  into  her  as  she  glided  into  the  water,  but 
alas!  my  pocketbook  with  every  sovereign  I  possessed  was 
in  my  breast-pocket  and  as  I  jumped  into  the  boat  I  heard 
it  go  kerchunk  into  the  sea.  I  paddled  back  to  the  wreck  for 
my  companion,  and  to  my  surprise  found  that  he  had  gone 
back  to  the  cabin  and  brought  up  a  very  light  steamer 


312        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

trunk  of  mine,  but  the  water  was  so  deep  he  had  not  been 
able  to  save  anything  of  his  own.  Without  further  adven- 
ture we  rowed  to  the  island  and  from  there  were  taken  to 
La  Ciotat  on  the  mainland  and  then  proceeded  to  Mar- 
seilles by  rail,  Mr.  Suarez  having  kindly  purchased  a  ticket 
for  me  as  well  as  for  himself. 

At  Marseilles  we  could  form  no  idea  of  the  condition  of 
the  interior  of  France,  as  the  heavy  hand  of  war  had  not 
reached  that  far  south,  and  hearing  that  trains  were  running 
through  to  Paris  we  started  for  that  once  gay  capital,  only 
to  find  that  we  had  been  misinformed  and  that  we  had  to 
undergo  many  vexatious  delays  before  arriving  there.  We 
soon  entered  the  country  still  occupied  by  the  Germans, 
although  the  war  was  over.  They  had  their  sentries  at  all 
the  railway  stations,  and  I  was  disgusted  at  the  brutal  and 
overbearing  manner  they  showed  toward  the  civilian  popu- 
lation. Instead  of  commanding  a  Frenchman  to  halt,  they 
would  merely  strike  him  a  fearful  blow  in  the  pit  of  his 
stomach  with  the  butt  of  a  musket ;  even  when  these  poor 
people  only  wanted  to  approach  a  train  for  the  purpose  of 
making  inquiries  about  missing  friends  or  relatives. 

It  was  in  the  early  spring  of  1871  when  we  entered  Paris 
in  one  of  the  first  trains  that  had  arrived  in  that  city  since 
the  suppression  of  the  Commune.  It  was  dark  when  we 
detrained  and  when  we  asked  for  a  cab  we  were  laughed 
at;  the  porter  asked  of  what  use  a  cab  would  be  since  all 
the  horses  had  been  eaten.  We  were  also  told  that  all  the 
famous  hotels  whose  names  we  remembered  had  been  con- 
verted into  hospitals.  Finally  a  man  agreed  to  pilot  us  to 
a  small  hotel  on  the  Boulevard  Montmartre  where  we  could 
get  accommodations  and  we  followed  him. 

The  next  morning  early  I  wrote  to  friends  in  England 
telling  them  of  the  loss  of  my  pocketbook  and  asking  them 
to  send  me  enough  money  to  enable  me  to  return  to  Egypt, 
but  the  mails  were  disorganized  and  I  never  heard  whether 
or  not  they  had  received  my  letter.    After  I  had  finished 


Paris  in  Sackcloth  and  Ashes  313 

my  breakfast  I  took  a  walk,  passing  through  the  once 
crowded  boulevards  des  Italiens,  des  Capucines,  and  la 
rue  Royale  without  meeting  a  living  soul.  The  once  mag- 
nificent plate-glass  show  windows  which  were  not  smashed 
were  perforated  with  bullet  holes  so  close  together  that  it 
would  have  been  impossible  to  put  one's  hand  on  a  spot  that 
a  bullet  had  not  gone  through.  The  Palace  of  the  Tuileries 
was  an  ugly  mass  of  smouldering  ruins  with  the  smoke  still 
ascending  from  it,  and  the  fronts  of  the  houses  on  the  rue 
de  Rivoli,  opposite  the  Palace  of  the  Louvre,  were  lying  in 
the  street.  In  some  of  the  houses  the  interior  of  the  bed- 
rooms could  be  plainly  seen,  looking  as  though  their  former 
occupants  had  only  just  stepped  out  of  them  for  a  moment. 
I  walked  down  the  Champs  Elys6es  where  once  the  fountains 
and  the  trees  had  been  so  beautiful,  but  there  was  now  not 
even  a  bush  or  shrub  to  relieve  the  desolation  which  had 
been  wrought  by  the  hands  of  vandals.  I  proceeded  on 
through  the  Arc  de  l'Etoile  to  the  edge  of  a  treeless  desert 
once  known  as  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  one  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful parks  in  the  world.  Returning  I  passed  through  the 
Place  Venddme  and  saw  its  beautiful  column,  broken  into 
several  pieces,  lying  on  the  ground.  I  had  seen  enough. 
Could  this  be  the  gay  and  debonnaire  Paris  with  the  gilded 
and  mirrored  pleasure  places  and  the  laughing  throngs  I 
had  seen  only  two  short  years  previously? 

That  was  a  gloomy  and  a  weary  week  I  spent  in  Paris, 
and  when  its  end  came  I  was  still  without  funds  and  the 
landlord  was  scowling  at  me.  I  had  never  laid  eyes  on  my 
companion  in  the  shipwreck  since  the  night  of  my  arrival ! 
He  was  still  in  Paris  and  stopping  at  the  same  house,  but  I 
came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  avoiding  me.  Hopeless 
and  expecting  to  be  put  out  on  the  street,  I  went  up  to  my 
room  one  night  after  wandering  for  hours  about  the  deserted 
streets  and  saw  what  I  supposed  was  a  notice  to  leave  pinned 
on  the  pincushion.  Wearily  opening  the  envelope,  the 
contents  of  which  I  thought  I  already  knew,  I  was  greatly 


314        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

delighted  to  find  that  I  was  mistaken  and  that  it  contained 
a  note  from  Mr.  Suarez  telling  me  that  he  regretted  that 
business  had  prevented  him  from  seeing  me,  and  directing 
me  to  take  an  enclosed  note  to  a  friend  of  his,  a  banker,  who 
would  supply  me  with  quite  a  large  sum  of  money  which  I 
could  return  at  my  convenience!  He  wound  up  the  note  by 
saying  that  he  was  compelled  to  leave  hurriedly  that  night. 
The  banker  gave  me  the  money,  but  said  that  Mr.  Suarez 
had  left  no  address,  as  he  expected  to  return  to  Paris  in  a 
few  days,  but  that  as  he  knew  my  address  in  Egypt  he 
would  write  to  me.  I  have  never  seen  or  heard  from  that 
generous  Jew  from  that  day  to  this. 

It  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  say  that  I  left  Paris  as 
quickly  as  possible  and  returned  to  Egypt  where  I  resumed 
my  uncongenial  military  duties. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Return  to  America  —  Tired  of  the  Egyptian  service,  but  the  Khedive  declines 
to  allow  me  to  resign  —  Grants  me  a  furlough  with  permission  to  go  home  — 
Determine  again  to  become  a  farmer  —  "Woe  to  them  that  go  down  to 
Egypt  for  help;  and  stay  on  horses"  —  Columbia,  South  Carolina  —  Become 
lord  and  master  of  the  great  Hampton  plantation  —  A  bachelor's  menage 
and  appetite  —  A  lively  fox  hunt  in  which  the  wily  Carpetbag  Government 
is  run  to  cover  —  Matches  only  cost  five  cents  a  box  —  Trial  Justice  Sam 
Thompson. 

Early  in  1872  it  became  very  evident  to  me  that  there 
was  no  future  for  the  American  officers  in  Egypt,  and  many 
of  the  others  thought  as  I  did,  but  few  of  them  had  any  very 
bright  prospects  to  look  forward  to  if  they  returned  home. 
I  determined  to  chance  it,  knowing  that  I  could  always  turn 
to  that  last  resort  of  the  navy  man  and  become  a  farmer. 
Land  was  plentiful  and  cheap  where  I  came  from. 

I  was  agreeably  surprised  to  find  that  the  Khedive  did  not 
want  to  let  me  go,  saying  that  I  was  only  a  homesick  boy 
and  that  he  would  allow  me  a  six  months'  furlough  instead 
of  accepting  my  resignation.  I  assured  him  that  I  would  not 
come  back,  but  he  thought  differently  and  advised  me  to 
accept  the  furlough,  saying  that  if  at  its  expiration  I  was 
still  of  the  same  mind  he  would  then  accept  my  resignation. 
So  I  bade  farewell  to  Egypt  and  went  to  Liverpool,  where 
I  took  ship  for  New  York  and  was  delighted  to  find  among 
the  passengers  Clarence  Cary  and  Frank  Dawson,  two  of  my 
best  friends,  and  comrades  in  the  Confederate  Navy. 

I  had  a  letter  from  my  friend,  Mr.  Edward  Markoe 
Wright,  asking  me  to  come  to  his  house  immediately  on  my 
arrival  in  New  York,  and  landing  in  that  port  very  early 
in  the  morning  I  waited  until  I  thought  the  family  were  up 
and  then  went  there.  While  waiting  for  my  host  to  come  down 
I  opened  a  Bible  which  was  lying  on  a  table  and  the  first 
words  that  caught  my  eye  was  the  commencement  of  the 
thirty-first  chapter  of  Isaiah:  "Woe  to  them  that  go  down 


316   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

to  Egypt  for  help;  and  stay  on  horses,"  etc.  I  had  not  seen 
a  Bible  for  a  very  long  time,  but  this  verse  was  so  apt  that 
I  had  no  curiosity  to  read  any  further  for  fear  that  it  might 
become  even  more  personal.  Arriving  in  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  although  Mr.  Trenholm  advised  me  against  the 
venture,  I  managed  to  persuade  him  to  let  me  have  the 
grand  old  Hampton  plantation  in  exchange  for  some  stocks 
I  had  in  railroads  and  a  cotton  manufactory.  The  property 
comprised  several  thousand  acres  and  was  situated  on  the 
Congaree  River,  four  miles  below  Columbia,  the  capital  of 
the  State.  There  was  a  new  ten-room  house  which  had  been 
recently  erected  on  the  place  and  a  huge  barn  capable  of 
stabling  a  hundred  animals.  The  avenue,  a  mile  long,  lead- 
ing from  the  public  road  to  the  house,  was  lined  by  huge  oak 
trees  whose  limbs  formed  a  perfect  Gothic  arch  the  whole 
distance.  One  of  my  little  nephews  the  first  time  he  passed 
through  it,  in  a  subdued  whisper  said,  "  It  feels  like  a  church, 
does  it  not?"  Alas,  that  wonderful  avenue  has  long  since 
been  turned  into  cordwood  and  burned. 

The  place  was  so  large  that  there  were  five  separate  and 
distinct  villages  or  negro  settlements  on  it.  My  grand- 
father, writing  an  account  of  a  visit  he  had  paid  General 
Hampton  in  1798,  says  that  he  "saw  one  hundred  ploughs 
going  at  the  same  time  in  one  field."  Of  course  these  were  the 
little  one-horse  ploughs  commonly  used  in  the  South  until 
many  years  after  the  Civil  War,  but  it  goes  to  show  how 
enormous  was  the  size  of  the  fields. 

I  set  up  housekeeping  at  Hampton  and  at  first  my  menage 
was  as  lonely  as  it  was  unique.  I  had  only  one  servant, 
Maum  Margaret,  a  huge  black  woman  somewhat  past  the 
middle  age ;  she  must  have  weighed  at  least  two  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds,  and  she  had  only  ten  children.  She  cooked  for 
me  and  made  my  bed,  and  when  dark  approached  she 
returned  to  her  cabin  and  her  family.  Maum  Margaret 
always  carried  a  huge  basket,  both  going  and  coming,  and 
when  my  bills  came  in  for  the  first  month's  expenses  I  felt 


The  Carpetbag  Government  317 

that  I  had  discovered  a  clue  to  the  mystery  of  the  basket. 
According  to  the  grocer's  bill,  besides  the  game  I  had  killed, 
and  the  fish,  chickens,  and  fresh  meat  that  I  had  bought,  in 
a  little  over  four  weeks  I  had  eaten  fifty  pounds  of  bacon, 
eleven  hams,  three  barrels  of  flour,  and  a  lot  of  canned 
things,  and  still  I  weighed  at  that  time  only  a  hundred  and 
forty-five  pounds! 

The  house  was  surrounded  by  forest  trees,  and  the  nights 
were  very  lonely,  my  only  companions  being  an  ugly-looking 
bulldog  and  a  hound.  I  was  the  only  white  man  on  the 
place  and  there  were  hundreds  of  ignorant  negroes,  many  of 
them  lawless  and  fast  reverting  to  barbarism.  It  was  im- 
possible to  obtain  a  conviction  against  one  of  them  for  any 
crime,  as  the  negro  trial  justice  was  dependent  upon  his  fees 
for  his  livelihood,  and  it  was  well  known  that  a  white  man 
would  pay  rather  than  go  to  jail  and  that  a  negro  would  not. 

When  I  had  left  South  Carolina  three  years  before  it  was 
under  martial  law;  now  the  experiment  of  the  Reconstruc- 
tion, which  ought  to  have  been  called  the  "  destruction,"  was 
in  full  sway.  Franklin  J.  Moses  was  governor,  and  the  help- 
less whites  were  compelled  to  submit  to  outrages  by  the 
presence  of  United  States  troops  who  were  there  to  see  that 
we  did  not  run  amuck  among  the  carpetbaggers  and  scal- 
awags. The  latter  name  was  applied  to  Southern  men  who 
had  joined  with  the  carpetbaggers  in  plundering  their  fellow 
citizens.  While  these  thieves  lived  in  luxury  their  lives  must 
have  been  mentally  very  uncomfortable,  for  they  well  knew 
that  if  the  troops  should  be  removed  for  a  moment  their 
lives  would  pay  the  penalty  of  their  outrages.  But  the  swag 
was  so  rich  that  not  even  fear  for  their  lives  could  induce  them 
to  let  go  even  after  they  had  accumulated  riches  beyond 
their  most  extravagant  dreams.  Their  only  safeguard  was 
the  soldiers,  and  the  regular  officers  had  such  a  contempt  for 
them  that  they  would  hold  no  social  intercourse  with  them, 
and  the  privates  hated  the  negroes  with  a  bitter  hatred  and 
took  no  pains  to  disguise  their  feelings. 


3i 8   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Moses  did  not  belong  to  the  low  class  of  whites,  as  has 
often  been  represented ;  on  the  contrary,  he  was  one  of  that 
class  of  Jews  which  had  always  stood  high  in  the  estimation 
of  their  fellow  citizens  and  he  had  married  into  a  most  ex- 
cellent family.  He  was  an  officer  in  one  of  the  regular  South 
Carolina  regiments  and  had  an  excellent  record  in  the  Con- 
federate Army.  On  one  occasion  when  the  flag  was  shot 
away  at  Fort  Sumter,  under  a  heavy  fire  he  climbed  the 
flagstaff  and  replaced  it.  Why  he  should  have  pursued  the 
course  he  did  is  incomprehensible.  I  first  saw  him  under 
very  ludicrous  circumstances.  I  had  known  from  childhood 
Colonel  Black,  who  commanded  the  Eighteenth  Infantry, 
the  United  States  regiment  stationed  at  Columbia  to  keep 
us  "rebs"  in  order,  and  I  was  on  the  most  friendly  terms 
with  all  the  officers  of  the  command  than  whom  a  higher- 
toned  set  of  gentlemen  it  was  never  my  good  fortune  to 
meet.  Among  the  younger  officers  was  a  Lieutenant  Todd, 
from  Kentucky,  who,  like  all  his  countrymen,  was  very  fond 
of  fox  hunting.  Riding  by  the  barracks  one  afternoon  Lieu- 
tenant Todd  stopped  me  and  asked  if  I  could  not  get  up  a 
fox  hunt  for  that  night,  as  the  moon  was  full  and  it  would  be 
a  great  night  for  a  chase.  I  agreed  with  him  and  told  him  if 
he  would  notify  the  other  officers,  I  would  go  back  to  the 
club  and  tell  my  friends  that  there  was  to  be  a  hunt  and  then 
go  and  see  some  of  the  planters  who  had  hounds,  and  that 
I  would  meet  them  at  the  Lexington  County  end  of  the 
bridge  which  spanned  the  Congaree. 

When  I  arrived  at  the  rendezvous  with  the  dogs  I  found 
some  thirty  or  forty  hunters  assembled  and  each  one  seemed 
armed  with  a  pocket  flask.  They  were  very  busily  engaged 
in  renewing  the  assurances  of  their  highest  consideration 
for  one  another,  at  the  same  time  whooping  and  yelling  like 
demons.  I  begged  them  to  keep  quiet,  as  not  only  would 
the  noise  run  every  fox  out  of  the  county,  but  it  would  also 
excite  the  dogs  who  had  not  been  hunted  for  some  time  and 
were  very  fresh.  Silence  was  obtained  for  a  few  minutes  and 


A  Lively  Fox  Hunt  319 

I  uncoupled  the  hounds  and  started  the  hunt.  The  full  moon 
was  shining  brightly  on  the  white  sandy  soil,  and  except 
where  the  shadows  of  the  lofty  yellow  pine  trees  fell,  it  was 
as  light  as  day.  The  dogs  had  hardly  begun  the  hunt  for  a 
trail  when  unfortunately  a  puppy  in  the  pack  spied  a  stray 
cur  and  gave  tongue,  followed  by  the  rest  in  full  cry.  The 
men  put  spurs  to  their  horses,  their  yells  drowning  the  music 
of  the  pack.  I  had  seen  the  cur  they  were  chasing,  but  I  was 
helpless  to  stop  either  dogs  or  men;  so  I  blew  my  horn  in 
vain  for  some  time,  and  then,  knowing  that  as  soon  as  the 
dogs  caught  the  cur,  they  would  make  their  way  across  the 
bridge  and  go  to  a  farm  in  the  sand  hills  on  the  other  side  of 
Columbia,  I  rode  to  the  bridge  and  asked  the  man  in  charge 
of  it  if  he  had  seen  a  pack  of  dogs  cross.  He  told  me  that  he 
had,  and  also  about  fifty  crazy  men  after  them.  Passing  by 
the  barracks  on  my  way  to  the  farm  where  I  supposed  I 
would  find  the  dogs,  I  was  hailed  by  an  officer  who  was  cross- 
ing the  parade  ground.  He  asked  me  to  dismount  and  said 
that  it  was  a  very  good  joke,  and  had  been  very  well  played, 
but  the  time  for  stopping  it  had  come,  as  he  had  no  idea  of 
keeping  the  whole  regiment  under  arms  all  night  for  my 
amusement,  and  that,  anyhow,  Colonel  Black  was  in  the 
officer  of  the  day's  office  and  would  like  to  see  me.  The 
room  was  dimly  lighted,  and  at  first  I  saw  no  one  but  the 
colonel,  who  was  seated  at  a  table  on  which  there  was  a 
lamp.  Calling  me  by  my  first  name,  he  asked  since  when 
I  had  become  a  member  of  the  Ku  Klux  Klan.  Before  an- 
swering I  glanced  around  the  room  and  to  my  astonishment 
beheld  the  governor  and  his  cabinet  seated  in  line  against 
the  wall.  I  laughingly  replied  to  the  colonel's  inquiry  by 
saying  that  if  I  was  a  Ku  Klux  there  were  about  fourteen 
officers  of  the  Eighteenth  Infantry  who  belonged  to  my 
particular  band;  and  just  then  the  disappointed  huntsmen 
trooped  in,  and  not  seeing  their  colonel  at  first,  began  to 
berate  me  for  letting  the  dogs  get  away.  Moses  and  the 
lieutenant-governor,  the  secretary  of  state,  the  treasurer, 


320        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

comptroller,  adjutant-general  and  superintendent  of  public 
education  arose  and  sneaked  out  into  the  night. 

"The  wicked  flee  when  no  man  pursueth."  The  next 
morning  we  heard  the  explanation  of  the  carpetbaggers' 
scare.  It  seems  that  when  the  hunting  party  gathered  in  the 
woods  at  the  end  of  the  bridge,  and  were  making  so  much 
noise,  an  old  negro  woman  hastened  across  the  river  and 
warned  the  governor  that  hundreds  of  Ku  Klux  were  gather- 
ing for  an  attack  on  the  state  officials.  Moses  sent  out  a 
trusted  scout  who,  when  he  had  got  halfway  across  the 
river,  took  fright,  and  returning  reported  that  thousands  of 
the  white-sheeted  devils  were  assembled  and  only  waiting 
for  the  signal  to  annihilate  every  white  Republican  in  the 
capital.  Moses  sent  the  warning  to  his  friends,  and  they 
all  fled  to  the  barracks  for  protection,  their  flight  being 
accelerated  by  the  yells  of  the  sportsmen  trying  to  head 
the  dogs  as  they  scampered  through  the  streets  of  the  city. 
Those  were  sad  days  for  Columbia,  but  the  natives  had  at 
least  one  week's  merriment  over  this  escapade. 

The  first  time  I  came  into  conflict  with  the  carpetbaggers 
was  one  day  when  Maum  Margaret  informed  me  that  she 
wanted  to  get  through  her  work  early,  as  there  was  to  be  a 
"speaking"  and  she  wished  to  attend  it.  I  asked  where  the 
meeting  was  to  take  place  and  she  informed  me  that  the 
white  man  (I  never  heard  a  negro  call  a  carpetbagger  a 
gentleman)  was  having  my  property  moved  out  of  one  of  my 
barns  for  the  purpose,  as  it  was  raining.  The  man  was  a 
candidate  for  the  legislature,  and  I  determined  to  attend 
the  meeting.  The  fellow  was  uneducated  and  mouthy.  I 
heard  him  tell  those  ignorant  blacks  that  "the  land  be- 
longed to  them  by  rights,  as  their  labor  had  made  it  what  it 
was,  and  the  only  way  to  get  rid  of  the  rebel  landlord  was 
to  tax  him  out  of  the  country,  and  that  if  they  would  vote 
for  him  he  would  get  a  law  passed  to  effect  that  desirable 
result";  and  then  he  went  on  to  say  that  if  we  could  not 
be  got  rid  of  in  that  way,  then  they  ought  to  burn  us  out  — 


Trial  Justice  Sam  Thompson  321 

a  box  of  matches  only  cost  five  cents  and  any  child  could 
strike  one.  At  this  I  jumped  on  the  improvised  speaker's 
stand  and  grabbed  him  by  the  collar  and  hustled  him  out  of 
the  building  and  to  the  public  road,  where  I  faced  him  in 
the  direction  of  Columbia,  and  telling  him  if  he  ever  dared 
put  his  foot  on  my  property  again  I  would  fill  him  full  of 
lead,  I  gave  him  a  kick  where  I  thought  it  would  do  the 
most  good  and  started  him  on  his  way.  Not  a  single  negro 
had  followed  us,  so  naturally  there  were  no  witnesses,  but 
the  next  day  I  was  served  with  a  warrant  charging  me  with 
assault,  and  when  the  trial  came  off  the  scoundrel  had 
dozens  of  witnesses,  negroes  who  lived  in  my  houses  and 
who  were  dependent  on  my  employment  for  their  means 
of  subsistence,  to  testify  against  me. 

The  trial  justice  was  a  negro  by  the  name  of  Sam  Thomp- 
son. He  had  been  a  slave  of  my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Alfred 
Wallace,  and  when  they  were  boys  Dr.  Wallace  had  amused 
himself  by  teaching  Sam  to  read.  This  was  the  judge  before 
whom  I  was  tried  and  fined  fifty  dollars,  which  of  course  I 
paid  rather  than  go  to  jail,  and  the  justice  pocketed  the 
fines  and  fees.  Seeing  how  easy  it  was  to  get  it  out  of  me, 
Sam  ever  afterwards  looked  to  me  for  a  regular  monthly 
contribution;  in  fact,  I  was  before  him  so  often  that  we 
became  quite  intimate. 

Another  candidate  appeared  a  few  days  afterwards.  This 
one  was  a  common  cornfield  negro  who  appealed  for  votes 
on  the  ground  that  if  he  was  elected  he  would  have  two  laws 
enacted,  one  for  the  whites  and  another  for  the  colored  folks ; 
of  course  the  one  for  the  negroes  would  be  better  than  the 
one  for  the  whites,  but  he  never  intimated  what  the  laws 
were  to  be.  A  few  days  after  this  man  made  his  appearance 
on  the  place  I  caught  him,  axe  in  hand,  attempting  to  cut 
down  one  of  the  magnificent  oaks  in  the  avenue.  I  not  only 
ordered  him  to  desist,  but  threatened  him  with  personal 
violence  if  he  struck  the  tree  another  blow.  He  said  he 
would  see  if  any  white  man  could  talk  to  him  that  way, 


322   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  the  next  day  I  was  again  fined  for  assault.  I  was  be- 
coming a  regular  gold  mine  for  Sam  Thompson,  the  trial 
justice. 

My  only  milch  cow,  which  had  a  young  calf,  was  killed, 
skinned,  and  butchered  in  the  middle  of  the  night  within 
three  hundred  yards  of  my  house.  I  traced  the  hide  to  a 
negro's  house  and  recovered  it.  One  of  the  women  in  the 
house  had  me  arrested  and  fined  for  trespass.  The  fact 
that  it  was  my  house  and  that  she  paid  me  no  rent  for  it 
did  n't  "cut  any  ice." 

When  I  went  to  the  Hampton  plantation  I  had  an  idea 
of  helping  these  people,  —  there  were  several  hundred  of 
them,  —  and  while  I  could  give  employment  only  to  some 
fifteen  or  twenty,  I  gave  all  of  them  permission,  not  only  to 
cut  as  much  firewood  as  they  needed  out  of  the  forest,  but 
also  to  sell  wood  to  the  inhabitants  of  Columbia,  and  for 
this  they  were  to  pay  me  nothing.  My  reward  was  that 
when  the  cold  weather  came,  instead  of  going  out  and  cut- 
ting wood  they  ripped  the  planks  from  the  interior  of  my 
houses  and  burned  them,  giving  as  an  excuse  that  it  was 
too  far  to  the  woods  situated  some  four  or  five  hundred 
yards  away. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

The  name  Galapagos  inspires  the  preacher  —  I  take  Northern  friends  to  a 
prayer  meeting  —  "  Getting  glory  "  —  A  chicken  thief  and  a  bulldog  get  hitched 
together  —  Death  of  Hector  as  a  consequence  —  The  preponderance  of  the 
evidence  —  Ball  toilets  in  the  middle  of  the  day  and  champagne  orgies  on 
the  main  street  —  The  comptroller  of  the  State  opens  fire  on  the  house  of 
Colonel  Black,  U.S.A.,  the  commandant  —  Moses,  promised  immunity,  gives 
testimony  in  the  fraudulent  bond  case  —  Questions  of  personal  privilege  — 
Nancy  Eliot. 

My  mother  and  unmarried  sister  came  to  stay  with  me 
at  Hampton  bringing  with  them  my  little  nephew  Howell 
Morgan,  whose  father  had  died  a  prisoner  of  war  on  John- 
son's Island,  and  after  their  arrival  there  was  a  change  in 
my  menage.  Maum  Margaret  was  discharged  on  the  score 
of  economy,  and  sad  to  say,  several  of  her  grown  sons  and 
daughters  had  to  return  to  the  fields  and  work  for  their 
bacon  and  hominy.  A  new  cook  and  a  maid  were  installed, 
and  when  we  had  company  we  commandeered  "Monday," 
the  head  preacher  on  the  place,  who  had  once  been  a  house 
servant  before  he  found  preaching  more  lucrative.  It  is 
hardly  necessary  to  say  that  Monday  was  the  biggest  old 
scoundrel  in  the  neighborhood. 

Hampton  was  the  camp-meeting  place  where  thousands 
of  negroes  assembled  for  an  annual  orgy,  and  Monday  was 
getting  his  flock  into  condition  for  the  great  event.  At  the 
camp-meeting  grounds  an  immense  arbor  of  pine  boughs 
had  been  erected  and  rough  seats  or  benches  installed.  In 
Monday's  flock  were  two  girls,  as  black  as  ebony,  named 
Blanche  and  Pearl,  and  had  they  been  white  they  un- 
doubtedly would  have  made  a  sensation  on  the  stage. 

Two  of  my  Northern  friends  came  to  see  me  on  my  prom- 
ise that  I  would  give  them  some  good  shooting,  which,  of 
course,  I  could  do,  as  the  place  in  those  days  was  overrun 
with  quail  and  rabbits.  I  wanted  to  amuse  them  and  deter- 
mined to  take  them  to  my  private  theater,  namely,  a  prayer 


324   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

meeting  at  the  camp-ground.  I  confided  my  intention  to 
Monday  and  told  him  that  there  was  a  dollar  in  it  for  him  if 
he  would  work  his  congregation  up  in  proper  style,  and  a 
half-dollar  each  to  Blanche  and  Pearl  if  they  "got  glory" 
in  extra  good  form.  Monday  assured  me  I  should  be  more 
than  satisfied. 

At  dinner  we  had  some  mock-turtle  soup  and  the  conver- 
sation turned  to  turtles.  I  remarked  that  in  the  Galapagos 
Islands  turtles  had  been  captured  which  weighed  a  ton  and 
more,  and  the  others  had  big  turtle  yarns  to  spin  also. 
Every  time  the  name  Galapagos  was  mentioned  I  could  see 
Monday's  eyes  fairly  bulge.  He  was  waiting  on  table,  and 
knowing  the  negro's  love  for  strange-sounding  words  which 
he  did  not  understand,  I  rather  suspected  that  there  would 
be  echoes  from  that  one.  After  we  had  finished  dinner  and 
smoked  our  cigars,  I  proposed  a  visit  to  the  prayer  meeting. 
We  approached  the  place  from  behind  where  the  preacher 
was  exhorting,  and  as  we  arrived  we  heard  Monday  from 
his  rough  pine  board  pulpit  say:  "My  brederin,  in  dat  great 
day  when  de  angel  ob  de  Lord  come  down  and  say  '  Galli- 
pagos!  Gallipagos!  Gallipagos!'  what  den  is  you  goin'  to 
say?"  And  a  roar  came  back  from  the  congregation, 
"Gallipagos!  Lord,  Gallipagos!" 

As  Monday  went  on  exhorting,  moans  became  more  and 
more  frequent,  interspersed  with  shouts  of  "Glory!"  and 
"I  gettin'  glory!"  But  the  eyes  of  most  of  the  spectators 
were  fixed  upon  Blanche  and  Pearl,  who  slowly  arose  and 
began  to  move  their  feet,  at  first  with  great  deliberation, 
and  then  with  increasing  speed  while  announcing  in  a 
most  convincing  manner  that  they  were  "gettin'  glory." 
This  went  on  until  their  bodies  were  writhing  in  the  most 
wonderful  contortions  accompanied  by  occasional  extra- 
ordinary leaps  into  the  air,  while  uttering  wild  shrieks  and 
blasphemies  which  I  will  not  pain  the  reader  by  repeating. 
The  performance  ended  by  these  girls  falling  to  the  ground 
in  a  fit  and  remaining  there,  foaming  at  the  mouth,  while 


A  Chicken  Thief  and  a  Bulldog         325 

their  bodies  and  limbs  were  as  rigid  as  iron  bars.  Then  they 
were  taken  up  by  men  who  lifted  them  by  their  heads  and 
heels,  and  still  rigid  they  were  carried  out  to  where  water 
could  be  poured  over  them  until  they  revived,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  they  were  ready  for  another  exhibition. 

Although  there  were  some  notoriously  bad  characters 
living  on  the  place,  I  had  no  fear  of  their  entering  the  house, 
but  they  would  pilfer  grain  from  the  barn  and  rob  the  hen- 
roost. I  slept  on  the  lower  floor  and  my  bulldog  stayed  in 
my  bedroom  at  night,  and  when  any  unusual  noise  occurred 
outside  he  would  give  me  notice  and  I  would  open  a  window, 
out  of  which  he  would  jump.  If  I  heard  any  one  yell  I  knew 
somebody  was  there,  and  I  would  go  out  and  disengage 
Hector  from  him. 

There  was  a  negro  by  the  name  of  Renty  who  had  served 
one  or  more  terms  in  the  penitentiary  and  who  gave  me  a 
great  deal  of  trouble.  Nominally  he  lived  in  one  of  my 
houses,  but  as  there  were  always  warrants  out  for  him,  he 
spent  most  of  his  time  hidden  in  a  swamp,  where  his  wife,  a 
most  excellent  and  hard-working  woman,  kept  him  supplied 
with  food. 

One  night  the  bulldog  awakened  me  and,  as  usual,  I  let 
him  out  of  the  window,  and  soon  heard  moans  of  "Oh,  my 
God!  Oh,  my  God!"  Taking  a  lantern  with  me  I  went  to 
the  chicken-house  and  found  that  Renty  had  used  the 
open  slats  out  of  which  it  was  built  for  a  ladder  and  had 
climbed  as  high  as  possible,  and  dangling  from  his  trousers 
was  Hector,  swinging  like  a  pendulum.  I  persuaded  Renty 
to  come  down,  and  when  he  reached  the  ground  he  suggested 
that  I  should  get  a  chisel  and  hatchet  and  pry  the  dog  loose. 
But  I  explained  to  Renty  that  since  emancipation  an 
English  bulldog  was  worth  a  great  deal  more  money  to  me 
than  a  free  nigger,  but  offered  a  compromise:  if  he  would 
remain  perfectly  still  I  would  go  into  the  house  and  get 
something  that  would  make  Hector  let  go.  Procuring  a 
handful  of  smoking  tobacco  I  returned  and  sprinkled  it  on 


326   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

the  dog's  nose  which  caused  him  to  sneeze,  and  Renty  was 
freed  from  his  viselike  teeth.  Three  days  after  Hector  was 
a  dead  dog,  a  piece  of  meat  well  sprinkled  with  powdered 
glass  having  been  placed  where  the  poor  beast  was  sure  to 
find  it. 

Shortly  after  Hector's  tragic  death,  I  heard  one  night 
the  whinny  of  a  horse  in  my  barn,  and  I  got  up  and  went 
to  investigate  its  cause.  I  found  backed  up  against  the 
open  barn  door  a  one-horse  spring  wagon  half  loaded  with 
my  cow  peas,  and  coming  out  of  the  door  was  my  old 
friend  Renty  with  a  full  bushel  basket  on  his  shoulder. 
He  dropped  the  basket  on  seeing  me  and  seemed  in  mor- 
tal terror  that  I  was  going  to  kill  him,  but  I  soon  reas- 
sured the  scoundrel,  and  ordered  him  to  saddle  a  horse  for 
me.  It  was  between  three  and  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
and  there  was  not  as  yet  a  soul  stirring  on  the  plantation.  I 
made  Renty  mount  his  wagon  and  escorted  him  to  Colum- 
bia. It  was  shortly  after  daylight  when  we  arrived  at  the 
trial  justice's  office  and  we  had  not  met  a  single  human 
being  on  the  way.  We  sat  on  the  steps  until  Judge  Sam 
Thompson  opened  his  court  at  nine  o'clock.  I  then  made 
my  charge  against  Renty  and  called  attention  to  the  cow 
peas  in  the  wagon  as  my  proof.  The  judge  took  Renty 
aside,  and  after  some  conversation,  which  I  could  not  over- 
hear, "His  Honor"  informed  me  that  he  could  not  hear  the 
case  until  one  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  that  in  the  mean 
time  he  would  be  responsible  for  the  prisoner. 

When  I  returned  to  the  court  I  found  some  fifteen  or 
twenty  negroes  from  the  plantation  assembled  in  the  court- 
room ready  to  testify  as  witnesses.  Renty  took  the  stand 
himself  and  swore  that  he  had  never  been  in  that  barn  in  his 
life,  —  despite  the  fact  that  he  had  been  a  slave  of  the 
Hamptons  and  afterwards  of  the  Trenholms,  —  not  even 
in  corn-shucking  times  when  all  the  hands  were  gathered 
there.  He  could  not  explain  how  this  was,  but  stuck  to  his 
story.  Next  he  put  a  little  girl  on  the  stand  who  swore  that 


The  Preponderance  of  the  Evidence      327 

she  was  his  niece  and  was  only  eleven  years  of  age.  She  also 
swore  that  her  uncle  had  never  been  in  the  barn  in  his  life. 
I  asked  her  if  she  understood  the  nature  of  an  oath,  and  she 
replied  that  the  "debbil"  would  get  her  if  she  did  not  tell 
the  truth.  I  then  asked  her  to  be  careful  about  her  answer 
to  a  question  I  would  ask  her.  I  told  her  that  her  uncle  had 
sworn  that  he  was  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  and  asked  her 
if  she  was  willing  to  swear  that  her  uncle  had  never  been 
in  the  barn  during  the  twenty-six  years  that  he  had  lived 
on  that  place  before  she  was  born;  and  she  replied,  "I  swear 
to  God  he  never  was!"  I  turned  to  the  judge  and  said, 
"Sam,  you  see  what  kind  of  a  story  this  is."  His  Honor  put 
on  a  solemn  expression  and  replied,  "  I  can't  help  it,  suh,  de 
preponderance  ob  de  ebidence  is  agin  you." 

But  that  was  not  all.  The  judge  called  Renty  to  him,  and 
after  a  whispered  conference,  Renty  entered  a  charge  of 
assault  against  me !  And  his  witnesses  all  swore  to  the  same 
story,  namely,  that  Renty  was  driving  his  cart  peaceably 
in  the  avenue  and  that  I  had  come  up  on  horseback  and 
dragged  him  off  his  wagon  and  beat  him  in  a  most  shameful 
manner.  I  realized  at  once  the  helplessness  of  my  situation 
and  became  reckless.  "Sam!"  I  shouted  to  the  judge,  "did 
you  ever  hear  that  I  was  a  strong  man?"  "Yes,"  suavely 
replied  His  Ebony  Honor:  "everybody  knows  you  is  double- 
jinted."  "Well,"  I  said,  "I  want  you  to  take  a  good  look 
at  Renty's  face  now  and  see  how  differently  it  will  look  after 
I  drive  him  one  from  the  shoulder."  And  with  that  I  drew 
back  to  strike,  but  Renty  was  too  quick  for  me,  and  with  a 
wild  cry  of  "Jedge,  for  God's  sake,  don't  let  him  do  it!" 
he  dived  under  the  table  at  which  the  judge  was  seated.  It 
sounds  very  funny  now,  but  it  cost  me  fifty  dollars  then, 
and  money  was  very  scarce  in  South  Carolina  at  that  time. 

In  those  days  strange  sights  could  be  witnessed  in  the 
streets  of  Columbia  at  any  time.  I  remember  —  not  only 
once,  but  on  several  occasions  —  seeing  a  handsome  landau 
drawn  by  a  spanking  pair  of  high-stepping  Kentucky  horses 


328   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

and  containing  four  negro  wenches  arrayed  in  low-neck  and 
short-sleeved  dresses,  their  black  bosoms  and  arms  covered 
with  real  jewels  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  draw  up  in  front 
of  a  barroom  on  Main  Street  where  the  wives  and  daughters 
of  the  old  and  impoverished  aristocracy  did  their  shopping. 
Out  of  the  saloon  would  come  the  governor  accompanied  by 
several  high  state  officials,  followed  by  a  servant  bearing 
a  waiter  on  which  was  champagne  and  glasses,  and  right 
there  on  the  public  sidewalk  enter  into  a  perfect  orgy  with 
the  dusky  belles. 

White  carpetbaggers  seemed  to  have  so  much  money  that 
they  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  it.  I  have  seen  one  of 
them  walk  into  a  drinking  saloon  by  himself  and  ostenta- 
tiously order  a  quart  bottle  of  champagne,  take  one  glass 
of  it,  and  carelessly  throw  a  ten-dollar  bill  on  the  counter 
and  tell  the  barkeeper  to  keep  the  change;  and  this  in  a 
community  where  people  bred  in  affluence  were  suffering 
for  the  very  necessities  of  life. 

The  salary  of  the  comptroller  was  eighteen  hundred  dol- 
lars a  year.  Dr.  Nagle,  who  held  the  office,  had  arrived  in 
Columbia  literally  in  rags.  In  the  first  year  of  his  incum- 
bency —  out  of  his  salary,  of  course  —  he  bought  a  fine 
house  and  a  carriage  and  horses  with  gold-mounted  harness 
among  other  things,  and  incidentally  built  a  bridge  across 
the  Congaree  River  that  must  have  cost  thousands  of  dol- 
lars. This  worthy  official,  returning  home  one  day  while 
drunk,  caused  quite  a  sensation,  beating  his  wife  unmer- 
cifully, and  she  fled  from  the  house  and  took  refuge  in  the 
home  of  Colonel  Black,  U.S.A.,  which  was  next  door. 
Whereupon  Nagle,  armed  with  a  Winchester  rifle,  began  to 
pump  lead  through  the  sides  of  the  commandant's  frame 
house.  The  soldiers  of  the  Eighteenth  Infantry,  hearing 
what  was  happening  at  the  home  of  their  beloved  colonel, 
came  from  the  barracks  on  the  run,  determined  to  have 
Nagle's  gore,  and  tore  down  the  picket  fence  in  front  of  his 
house,  before  their  officers  arrived  and  stopped  them. 


The  Fraudulent  Bonds  Case  329 

Cardoza,  a  negro,  was  superintendent  of  public  education, 
and  Purvis,  a  Philadelphia  mulatto,  was  adjutant-general 
of  the  State.  These  two  men  were  considered  by  the  natives 
to  be  the  most  respectable  members  of  the  State  Govern- 
ment. A  law  was  passed  authorizing  the  issue  of  some  twenty 
millions  of  state  bonds,  and  it  was  supposed  that  a  large 
number  of  fraudulent  bonds  were  also  printed.  At  all  events, 
when  Hampton  upset  the  carpetbag  government,  Parker, 
the  state  treasurer,  started  a  bonfire  in  his  back  yard  which 
made  so  much  smoke  that  the  fire  engines  turned  out  and 
extinguished  it,  and  to  the  amazement  of  the  crowd  which 
had  rapidly  assembled  it  was  discovered  that  it  was  state 
bonds  that  he  was  burning.  Parker  was  afterwards  tried 
and  convicted.  Ex-Governor  Moses  was  promised  immunity 
if  he  would  come  back  to  the  State  and  testify  in  the  case, 
and  to  the  astonishment  of  the  court  he  volunteered  the 
information  that  when  he  was  speaker  of  the  House  of 
Representatives  he  had  signed  more  than  eighteen  hundred 
thousand  dollars  of  fraudulent  pay  certificates.  The  State 
House  was  overrun  with  young  negroes  who  were  down  on 
the  pay-rolls  as  "attaches"  (they  called  themselves  "taw- 
cheeses"),  and  that  may  have  accounted  for  some  of  the 
money. 

The  legislative  halls  of  South  Carolina  presented  a  spec- 
tacle such  as  had  never  been  seen  before,  and  the  like  of 
which,  let  us  hope,  will  never  be  witnessed  again.  The 
furnishings  were  very  fine,  especially  the  carpets  and  cus- 
pidors ;  the  latter  were  charged  to  the  State  at  eighteen  dol- 
lars each.  The  members  were  mostly  negroes,  as  there  was 
not  a  sufficient  number  of  carpetbaggers  to  fill  all  the 
offices.  The  negro  members  from  the  upper  part  of  the 
State  reveled  in  the  use  of  long  words  which  they  generally 
mispronounced,  and  those  from  the  low  country  mostly 
talked  in  the  sea  island  and  ricefield  pidgin  English  called 
"gulla,"  which  is  unintelligible  to  the  stranger.  For  in- 
stance, they  call  all  males  "she"  and  all  females  "he";  and 


330        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

if  they  want  to  ask  if  you  hear,  they  say  "  Yedium";  and 
"Shum  deh"  is  "Do  you  see  it?" 

When  in  session  the  legislature  was  as  good  as  a  circus. 
I  remember  once,  when  one  honorable  member  called  an- 
other honorable  member  "a  liar,"  the  offended  Solon  jumped 
to  his  feet  yelling:  "Mr.  Speaker!  I  rises  to  a  question  of 
pussonal  privilege.  I  wants  dat  ricefield  nigger  to  under- 
stand dat  I  won't  stand  none  ob  his  insinuendos  agin  me!" 

General  Worthington,  who  had  been  an  officer  in  the 
Union  volunteer  army,  and  who  had  been  one  of  the  pall- 
bearers at  the  funeral  of  President  Lincoln,  came  to  South 
Carolina  immediately  after  he  had  been  mustered  out  of 
the  service  and  found  no  difficulty  in  having  himself  elected 
to  Congress.  One  day  he  was  busily  engaged  in  lobbying  a 
bill  through  the  legislature,  and  while  holding  a  huge  bunch 
of  greenbacks  in  one  hand,  which  he  occasionally  waved 
aloft  as  he  passed  from  the  seat  of  one  member  to  that  of 
another,  suddenly  a  negro  jumped  to  his  feet  and  claimed 
the  recognition  of  the  Speaker  on  a  question  of  privilege. 
When  asked  to  state  it,  he  said  he  had  just  been  informed 
that  General  Worthington  had  given  another  member 
twenty-five  dollars  for  his  vote  on  the  bill,  and  he  had  only 
given  him,  the  protestor,  five  dollars.  He  wanted  that 
"white  man"  to  understand  that  his  vote  was  worth  as 
much  as  that  of  any  ricefield  nigger  from  Santee  or  any  other 
part  of  the  State !  In  any  State  north  of  the  Potomac  this 
brazen  confession  would  have  landed  a  member  of  the  legis- 
lature in  the  penitentiary,  but  in  the  legislative  halls  of 
South  Carolina  it  only  caused  a  roar  of  laughter  at  the 
expense  of  the  cheap  lawmaker. 

The  speaker  of  the  House  was  a  very  highly  educated  and 
able  man,  as  black  as  a  highly  polished  boot;  some  said  that 
he  was  a  Jamaica  negro  who  had  been  to  school  in  England 
and  others  insisted  that  he  was  a  product  of  Harvard  Uni- 
versity. Be  that  as  it  may,  he  certainly  was  one  of  the  most 
brilliant  orators  I  ever  heard  speak.    His  name  was  Eliot, 


Nancy  Eliot  331 

and  he  evidently  had  a  susceptible  heart,  for  in  the  midst  of 
his  meteoric  career  of  loot  and  pillage  he  fell  desperately  in 
love  with  Nancy,  the  most  beautiful  mulatto  girl  in  Colum- 
bia. Nancy  was  the  nursemaid  for  Mrs.  Hey  ward's  little 
children,  and  although  the  Heywards,  like  all  other  aristo- 
crats, had  been  impoverished  by  the  war,  and  Nancy  was 
then  free,  not  even  the  high  wages  offered  by  the  carpet- 
baggers could  tempt  her  to  leave  those  little  children  of  whom 
she  was  fond.  But  Eliot  offered  marriage,  and  the  girl  was 
dazzled  by  the  high  position  to  which  he  proposed  to  raise 
her,  and  tearfully  she  left  the  Heyward  home  to  become  the 
proud  wife  of  the  wealthy  speaker.  Nancy  had  been  brought 
up  among  aristocrats  and  she  knew  how  to  do  things.  She 
was  no  sooner  married  than  she  set  up  a  handsome  estab- 
lishment, and  she  could  be  seen  in  full  ball  toilet,  in  the 
middle  of  the  day,  with  her  neck  and  arms  covered  with 
jewels,  driving  down  Main  Street.  But  besides  the  love 
of  finery  Nancy  had  another  side  to  her  character.  No- 
thing could  have  induced  her  to  stop  in  front  of  Mrs.  Hey- 
ward's  house  in  that  costume  or  in  her  carriage,  but  in  the 
cool  of  the  afternoon,  Nancy,  arrayed  in  the  neat  cap  and 
apron  of  a  nursemaid,  would  stop  her  carriage  around  the 
corner  from  her  former  mistress's  home,  and  alighting  would 
walk  to  the  house  and  beg  to  be  allowed  to  take  the  children 
out.  The  people  who  had  seen  her  in  gala  attire  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  day  would  behold  the  strange  spectacle  of  the 
same  Nancy,  as  demure  as  a  novice,  seated  on  the  front  seat 
of  her  own  landau,  with  the  children  occupying  the  back 
seat.  Everybody  liked  Nancy  and  her  promenades  with  the 
children  were  among  the  strange  features  of  that  strange 
time.  Nancy  attended  one  of  the  inauguration  balls  in 
Washington  and  was  said  to  have  been  one  of  the  most 
beautifully  gowned  women  of  the  occasion. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

Corrupt  judiciary  —  Melton  voted  for  Seymour  and  Blair,  but  bet  his 
money  on  Grant  —  Feud  between  Attorney-General  Melton  and  Colonel 
Montgomery  in  which  Mr.  Caldwell  was  killed  and  I  was  wounded. 

The  judiciary  was  as  corrupt  as  the  legislature  —  and 
that  is  saying  a  great  deal.  An  imported  negro  sat  on  the 
supreme  bench,  his  colleagues  being  white  carpetbaggers. 
There  was  talk  about  impeaching  a  negro  judge  of  one  of 
the  district  courts  in  the  lower  part  of  the  State,  and  Judge 
Moses,  an  uncle  of  the  governor,  was  actually  impeached  by 
the  piebald  legislature  because  he  got  away  with  a  lartoe 
amount  of  property  belonging  to  a  white  widow  and  her 
fatherless  children  while  the  estate  was  in  the  hands  of  the 
court.  The  outrage  was  so  flagrant  that  even  the  Govern- 
ment at  Washington  took  notice  of  it,  and  orders  came  from 
the  national  capital  that  not  only  must  such  things  stop,  but 
that  more  honest  men  must  be  elected  to  the  judgeships  at 
the  next  election.  Moses  was  only  allowed  thirteen  days 
to  prepare  for  his  defense.  While  walking  on  the  street 
one  day,  and  longing  for  human  sympathy,  he  met  Major 
Melton,  a  famous  wit  and  likewise  a  stammerer.  "  Major," 
said  the  judge,  "history  does  not  record  such  an  outrage  as 
a  man  being  allowed  only  thirteen  days  to  prepare  for  his 
defense  in  a  trial!"  "Hold  on,  judge,"  replied  Melton, 
"the  Bible,  which  is  the  foundation  of  history,  records  that 
your  people  did  n't  allow  our  Saviour  thirteen  minutes!" 

Major  Melton  was  a  native-born  South  Carolinian,  a 
lawyer  by  profession,  and  he  had  served  throughout  the 
war  as  an  officer  in  the  Confederate  Army.  That  he  was  a 
dyed-in-the-wool  Democrat,  no  one  doubted  until  the  time 
came  for  the  legislature  to  elect  new  district  judges.  Judi- 
cial timber  among  the  carpetbaggers  was  scarce.  Washing- 
ton was  peremptory  in  its  orders  that  a  higher  class  of  men 
should  be  placed  on  the  bench,  and  the  legislature  did  not 


Feud  between  Melton  and  Montgomery    333 

dare  disobey  its  orders,  as  they  full  well  knew  that  they 
could  not  exist  an  hour  if  the  Administration  withdrew  the 
troops.  So  they  issued  an  invitation  to  all  lawyers  who  cared 
to  accept  judgeships  to  appear  before  the  legislature  and 
address  that  august  body.  To  the  amazement  of  everybody 
Melton  was  one  of  those  who  appeared.  He  was  a  fine  orator 
and  made  them  an  eloquent  Republican  speech,  and  was 
getting  on  finely  until  an  old  negro  member  interrupted  him 
with  "  Dat's  all  very  fine,  Mr.  Melton,  but  who  you  vote  for 
last  election?"  The  question  brought  Melton  to  his  stam- 
mering and  he  replied,  "  I  vo-vo-voted  for  Sey-seymour  and 
Blair."  A  roar  of  laughter  interspersed  with  jeers  greeted 
this  confession,  but  Melton's  voice  soon  dominated  the 
situation  and  he  was  heard  to  say,  "Ho-ho-hold  on;  i"  bet 
my  money  on  Grant  1"  His  quickness  saved  and  elected  him. 

Afterwards  Judge  Melton  was  elected  attorney-general 
of  the  State  and  unfortunately  became  involved  in  a  news- 
paper controversy  with  Colonel  Montgomery,  the  president 
pro  tern  of  the  Senate,  in  which  several  vituperative  letters 
were  exchanged.  Montgomery  was  also  a  Southern  man 
who  had  become  a  Republican.  The  public  were  freely  dis- 
cussing the  fiery  correspondence  and  it  was  the  general 
opinion  that  a  personal  difficulty  would  result  from  it. 

I  was  in  Columbia  one  day  when  a  particularly  abusive 
letter  over  the  signature  of  Montgomery  appeared  in  the 
paper.  I  did  not  know  the  president  pro  tern  of  the  Senate, 
and  had  only  a  bowing  acquaintance  with  Judge  Melton.  I 
had  attended  to  some  business  I  had  in  the  city  and  had 
mounted  my  horse  with  the  intention  of  returning  to  my 
home,  when  on  Main  Street  I  met  young  Mr.  Caldwell,  a 
cotton  broker,  and  one  of  the  few  men  in  Columbia  who  had 
any  money.  Mr.  Caldwell  hailed  me  and  asked  me  to  dis- 
mount and  accompany  him  to  Pollock's  Restaurant  and 
have  luncheon  with  him.  I  laughingly  declined,  at  the  same 
time  pointing  to  the  well-known  horse  I  was  riding,  a 
wicked  thoroughbred  stallion,  who  a  short  time  before  had 


334   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

killed  a  man.  Mr.  Caldwell  called  a  negro  man  who  was 
standing  on  the  corner  and  asked  him  if  he  would  not  hold 
the  horse,  telling  me  that  the  man  had  formerly  been  the 
horse's  groom.  I  dismounted  and  walked  down  the  street 
with  my  host. 

Arriving  at  the  restaurant  we  saw  that  the  long  table  in 
the  public  dining-room  was  fully  occupied,  and  Mr.  Cald- 
well proposed  that  we  go  upstairs  into  a  private  room, 
where  we  had  our  meal  and  were  just  finishing  it  when  a 
servant  brought  Mr.  Caldwell  a  card.  Turning  to  me  my 
host  asked  if  I  had  any  objections  to  having  Judge  Melton 
join  us,  as  he,  Mr.  Caldwell,  had  something  very  particular 
to  tell  him.  Of  course  I  said  that  I  would  be  delighted  to  see 
the  judge,  and  he  was  ushered  into  the  room.  Mr.  Caldwell 
and  the  judge  went  over  to  a  window  and  entered  into  a 
conversation  which  did  not  last  over  three  minutes.  I  never 
learned  what  the  subject  discussed  was.  The  three  of  us  then 
descended  the  stairs  and  Mr.  Caldwell  went  to  the  cashier's 
desk  to  pay  the  bill.  Mr.  Caldwell  tendered  a  bank-note  of 
rather  large  denomination,  and  while  we  waited  for  the 
change  he  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  seen  Colonel  Montgomery, 
and  on  being  told  that  I  had  not  seen  him  to  know  him, 
he  pointed  toward  the  dining-room,  the  door  of  which  was 
open,  and  said:  "The  man  seated  at  the  head  of  the  table 
is  Captain  Tupper,  and  the  man  on  his  right  is  the  presi- 
dent pro  tern  of  the  Senate."  "Yes,"  I  replied,  "and  there 
goes  Judge  Melton  into  that  room.  Those  men  will  surely 
have  a  difficulty."  Mr.  Caldwell  said,  "I  will  stop  him"; 
and  started  for  the  door,  I  following.  I  was  two  or  three 
steps  behind  Caldwell,  and  as  I  entered  the  room  I  saw  Mel- 
ton with  his  open  hand  slap  Montgomery  in  the  face,  and 
the  two  clinched,  upset  the  chair,  and  rolled  on  to  the  floor. 
Instantly  Captain  Tupper  rose  from  his  chair,  drawing  it 
back  with  his  left  hand  as  with  his  right  he  drew  a  revolver 
from  his  hip  pocket.  He  raised  the  weapon  and  fired,  and  as 
he  did  so  Caldwell  threw  up  his  arms  and  with  a  gasp  fell 


\ 


A  Shooting  Affray  335 

dead  in  my  arms.  I  laid  him  gently  on  the  floor  and  as  I 
raised  my  head  I  heard  a  bullet  whistle  near  my  left  ear. 
Thinking  I  had  better  hurry,  I  stepped  over  Caldwell's 
dead  body,  and  leaped  over  the  two  struggling  men  on 
the  floor  while  Tupper  was  again  cocking  his  pistol  with 
his  eyes  now  glued  on  Judge  Melton,  who  was  on  top  of 
Montgomery.  Tupper  was  standing  between  two  windows, 
and  I  felt  certain  that  I  could  throw  him  out  of  one  of  them 
before  he  could  shoot  Melton.  I  picked  him  up,  and  in  an- 
other instant  I  would  have  sailed  him  through  the  window, 
when  to  my  surprise  he  reached  over  my  left  shoulder  and, 
pressing  the  muzzle  of  his  pistol  against  my  back,  just  below 
the  point  of  the  shoulder  blade,  he  pulled  the  trigger.  My 
left  arm  fell  limply  by  my  side  and  Tupper  dropped  to  the 
floor,  landing  on  his  feet.  With  my  right  hand  I  grabbed  the 
wrist  of  the  hand  which  still  held  the  smoking  pistol  and  it 
dropped  to  the  floor  at  my  feet.  I  could  easily  have  picked  it 
up  and  killed  him  with  it,  but  I  felt  sure  that  I  had  my  death 
wound,  and  I  did  not  wish  to  go  before  my  Maker  with  the 
blood  of  another  on  my  hands ;  so  I  compromised  by  telling 
Tupper  that  before  I  went  I  was  going  to  give  him  the  worst 
beating  he  ever  had  had. 

While  this  was  going  on,  the  guests,  who  a  moment  before 
had  been  enjoying  their  meal,  were  panic-stricken;  those 
who  were  near  the  door  rushed  through  it,  and  the  rest 
sought  safety  under  the  tables.  In  such  emergencies  singu- 
lar ideas  sometimes  flash  through  the  mind.  I  could  have 
done  all  I  wanted  to  do  to  Captain  Tupper  just  as  well  where 
I  was  as  in  any  other  place,  but  it  seemed  to  me  that  I 
wanted  room,  and  plenty  of  room,  so  I  threw  my  right  arm 
around  his  body,  lifted  him  on  to  my  hip,  and  carried  him  out 
of  a  side  door  leading  into  an  alley.  I  then  dropped  him  on  to 
his  feet  and  before  he  could  recover  from  his  surprise,  I  must 
have  struck  him  a  pretty  hard  blow,  for  the  back  of  his  head 
was  the  first  thing  that  struck  the  bricks.  I  felt  that  I  must 
hurry,  as  my  strength  was  fast  failing,  and  I  leaped  upon 


336   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

his  prostrate  body.  Tupper  was  a  very  handsome  man  and 
seemed  to  have  but  one  idea  and  that  was  to  save  his  face, 
which  he  covered  with  his  hands.  I  would  hit  his  hands  so 
hard  that  the  pain  would  make  him  remove  them  for  an 
instant  and  before  he  could  get  them  back  I  would  smash 
him  again.  Tupper  was  dressed  in  a  white  duck  suit  and  I 
in  tweeds  of  a  red  and  brown  hue.  The  blood  rushing  out  of 
my  wound  saturated  his  white  clothes  and  I  must  confess 
he  was  a  gory-looking  object.  Several  negro  policemen  ar- 
rived on  the  scene  and  began  to  club  me.  The  sheriff  came, 
and  after  I  was  pulled  off  of  Tupper,  asked  me  if  I  was  not 
ashamed  to  beat  a  man  in  that  way  after  I  had  shot  him. 
To  my  insistence  that  Tupper  had  killed  Mr.  Caldwell,  and 
that  it  was  my  blood  which  saturated  his  clothes,  I  could  get 
no  credence.  The  sympathies  of  the  representatives  of  the 
law  were  all  with  Mr.  Tupper,  and  the  police  dragged  me 
off  to  jail,  and  although  I  offered  no  resistance  they  twisted 
my  arms,  especially  the  injured  one,  in  a  most  brutal  man- 
ner —  Judge  Melton  (who  accompanied  me)  protesting  all 
the  way  against  my  being  treated  so  roughly.  It  was  some 
little  time  after  I  reached  the  jail  that  the  sheriff  found  out 
the  true  state  of  affairs  and  arrested  Captain  Tupper.  Mr. 
Clarke,  a  lawyer  at  that  time,  and  now  the  president  of  a 
bank  (I  am  glad  to  say  he  is  still  living  —  191 6),  came  hur- 
riedly to  the  jail  in  a  carriage  and  took  Judge  Melton  and 
myself  to  the  judge's  home,  where  I  was  laid  on  a  bed  until 
the  doctors  and  their  operating-table  arrived,  and  then  they 
began  to  carve  and  probe  me  for  the  bullet.  Three  separate 
times  did  they  strap  me  to  that  leather-covered  table  during 
the  three  months  I  was  absolutely  helpless,  and  they  wanted 
to  dig  into  me  a  fourth  time,  but  I  protested  against  their 
doing  so  until  I  could  have  a  talk  with  Mr.  Trenholm,  who 
at  my  request  left  his  important  affairs  in  Charleston  to 
come  to  me.  I  could  not  speak  in  a  voice  above  a  whisper, 
but  I  managed  to  tell  my  best  friend  that  if  I  was  put  on  that 
operating-table  again  I  would  die  under  the  knife  and  that 


A  Champagne  Cure  337 

I  preferred  to  die  in  my  bed.  Mr.  Trenholm  told  me  that  it 
was  the  opinion  of  the  surgeons  that  I  surely  would  die  un- 
less they  extracted  the  bullet,  and  I  told  him  that  they  did 
not  know  where  the  bullet  was  and  were  only  groping 
blindly  in  my  body.  Mr.  Trenholm  asked  the  doctors  if  I 
would  live  if  they  found  the  lead,  and  they  replied  that  they 
could  give  no  assurance  to  that  effect,  but  that  I  would  cer- 
tainly die  unless  it  was  found.  Under  these  circumstances 
my  friend  agreed  with  me  that  it  would  be  better  for  me  to 
be  allowed  to  pass  away  quietly  in  my  bed. 

When  the  decision  was  announced,  the  doctors  told  Mr. 
Trenholm  that  I  could  have  anything  I  wanted,  as  nothing 
would  hurt  me,  and  the  kind  old  gentleman  leaned  over  me 
and  asked  if  there  was  anything  I  desired  to  have  and  was 
amazed  when  I  murmured  "champagne."  The  doctor  told 
him  it  would  be  better  to  humor  me,  as  I  might  fret  if  it  was 
denied  me,  adding  that  I  would  not  be  able  to  swallow  it. 
A  small  glassful  of  the  wine  was  put  to  my  lips  and  I  took  one 
good  swallow,  and  then  my  throat  seemed  to  contract  so  that 
I  could  not  have  taken  another  if  my  life  depended  upon  it, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  I  dozed  off  into  a  profound  slumber, 
the  first  sleep  I  had  had  in  three  months  without  the  use 
of  chloral,  and  I  did  not  awake  from  it  for  two  hours.  The 
first  thing  I  asked  for  on  opening  my  eyes  was  cham- 
pagne, and  this  time  I  was  able  to  drain  the  glass  and  then 
slept  for  five  hours. 

When  the  surgeons  came  the  next  morning  to  dress  my 
wound,  they  were  surprised  to  find  my  condition  so  im- 
proved and  ordered  more  champagne,  and  from  that  mo- 
ment I  began  to  get  better.  Why  I  craved  champagne  is  a 
mystery  to  me,  as  it  is  a  wine  I  never  cared  for  when  in  my 
normal  condition. 

India-rubber  tubing  had  been  inserted  to  drain  my 
wound,  and  every  morning  the  surgeons  would  take  it  out 
to  cleanse  it  and  then  they  would  put  it  back;  this  hurt 
worse  than  the  probing  and  cutting  did.  To  have  a  bullet 


338        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

enter  one's  body  is  not  such  an  unpleasant  sensation  as 
would  be  imagined,  but  oh,  the  agony  of  the  probe  and 
forceps,  especially  when  a  surgeon  makes  a  mistake  and  tries 
to  pull  out  something  that  is  not  the  bullet  —  as  happened 
to  me. 

While  I  was  lying  helpless  in  Judge  Melton's  home  the 
house  caught  fire  one  day.  The  soot  in  one  of  the  chimneys 
became  ignited  and  fell  on  the  shingle  roof  causing  quite  a 
blaze.  A  young  gentleman  by  the  name  of  Richard  Bacot, 
who  when  a  boy  had  run  away  and  gone  to  sea  before  the 
mast,  performed  a  rather  remarkable  feat.  There  was  no 
ladder  on  the  premises,  but  the  sailor  did  not  need  one; 
he  went  up  the  lightning  rod  hand  over  hand  and  tore  away 
the  burning  shingles  with  his  bare  hands,  and  of  course  was 
burned  very  badly.  Mr.  Bacot  was  in  the  house  when  the 
alarm  was  given,  as  he  had  kindly  volunteered  to  assist  in 
nursing  me. 

When  I  was  able  to  be  up  and  about  again,  the  trial  of 
Captain  Tupper  for  the  killing  of  Mr.  Caldwell  was  begun, 
and  of  course  I  was  one  of  the  witnesses  called  by  the 
State.  I  described  what  had  taken  place  and  also  told  the 
court  that  I  did  not  blame  Captain  Tupper  for  shooting 
me,  as  I  surely  would  have  thrown  him  out  of  the  window 
if  he  had  not  done  so.  I  was  not  cross-examined,  but  the 
trial  took  on  the  appearance  of  a  French  court,  where  they 
do  what  is  called  "reconstituting"  the  tragedy.  I  was  made 
to  place  officials  of  the  court  in  the  positions  occupied  by 
the  principals  of  the  deplorable  affair  and  show  how  Tupper 
arose  from  his  chair  and  fired  the  fatal  shot;  how  Caldwell 
fell  dead  in  my  arms,  and  how  I  laid  him  down  on  the  floor 
and  stepped  over  his  body  and  leaped  over  Melton  and 
Montgomery  as  they  struggled  with  each  other,  etc.,  etc. 
It  was  my  first  appearance  in  public  as  an  actor,  and  thank 
Heaven,  my  last. 

Captain  Tupper,  testifying  in  his  own  behalf,  said  that 
he  had  had  no  intention  of  shooting  until  he  saw  me  enter 


A  Carpetbag  Murder  Trial  339 

the  room,  and  then,  fearing  that  I  would  kill  him  if  I  got 
my  hands  on  him,  he  had  fired  his  revolver  in  self-defense. 
Why  he  should  have  expected  an  attack  from  me  I  cannot 
imagine,  as  I  had  never  before  spoken  half  a  dozen  words 
to  him  in  our  short  acquaintance. 

Judge  Carpenter,  who  presided  at  the  trial,  was  a  carpet- 
bagger, a  man  of  considerable  learning  and  ability,  but  un- 
fortunately he  would  go,  periodically,  on  the  most  frightful 
debauches.  The  jury  was  a  mixed  one  of  whites  and  blacks 
and  they  brought  in  a  verdict  of  guilty.  Captain  Tupper 
was  sentenced  to  the  penitentiary,  but  he  never  went  there. 
He  was  nominally  kept  in  the  jail  at  Columbia  for  some 
months.  I  was  told  that  his  room  in  the  prison  in  the  day- 
time resembled  a  club,  where  he  entertained  his  friends  very 
hospitably.  Sheriff  Dent  and  his  sons  were  friends  of 
Tupper  and  at  night,  with  Tupper,  they  would  visit  the 
places  of  amusement.  After  several  months  of  such  nom- 
inal confinement,  Captain  Tupper  was  pardoned  by  Gov- 
ernor Franklin  J.  Moses,  and  shortly  after  securing  his  free- 
dom, he  was  elected  mayor  of  Summerville,  South  Carolina. 
He  killed  another  man  and  died  an  honored  (?)  citizen  in  the 
community  in  which  he  lived. 

If  the  above  facts  were  not  a  matter  of  record  in  the 
courts  and  elsewhere,  I  would  fear  to  put  them  on  paper, 
as  they  seem  to  be  so  preposterous  in  Anno  Domini  191 6. 
The  story  of  the  Reconstruction  period  in  South  Carolina 
has  never  been  told  in  print  except  in  the  files  of  the 
"Charleston  News  and  Courier,"  and  now  that  nearly  all 
of  those  who  passed  through  that  nightmare  have  passed 
away,  I  fear  that  the  present  generation  will  never  realize 
its  horrors.  But  believe  me,  South  Carolina  was  the  nearest 
approach  to  a  hell  on  earth  during  the  orgy  of  the  carpet- 
baggers and  negroes  that  ever  a  refined  and  proud  people 
were  subjected  to. 


CHAPTER  XL 

Cotton-picking  by  moonlight  —  Swindled  by  a  carpetbagger  out  of  my  hay 
crop  —  Legislative  debates  —  Confiscation  by  taxation  —  Poverty  no  bar 
to  marrying  and  giving  in  marriage  —  Hound  dog  gives  the  alarm  and  saves 
my  family  from  death  when  house  catches  fire  —  Pay  taxes  in  a  novel  way, 
and  sell  Hampton  plantation  —  Move  to  Charleston. 

As  a  cotton  planter  I  was  a  failure.  Negroes,  who  culti- 
vated in  a  desultory  manner  a  half-acre  of  poor  ground  ca- 
pable of  producing  a  quarter  of  a  bale  of  cotton,  marketed 
five  or  six.  This  was  made  possible  by  the  proximity  of  the 
cotton-fields  of  the  white  planters,  and  moonlight  nights, 
combined  with  the  fact  that  low  whites  had  established  near 
each  large  plantation  country  grocery  stores  where  they 
exchanged  bacon,  hominy,  and  whiskey  for  unginned  cot- 
ton. In  fact  they  were  simply  fences  where  stolen  goods 
could  be  disposed  of. 

There  were  hundreds  of  acres  of  bottom  lands  on  the 
plantation  which  produced  a  luxuriant  growth  of  natural 
grass  which  grew  to  a  great  height  and  made  very  good  hay. 
This  crop  alone  should  have  brought  me  in  a  very  good 
income,  but  there  were  almost  insurmountable  difficulties 
in  the  harvesting  of  it.  Like  most  of  my  neighbors  I  had 
great  quantities  of  land,  but  very  little  ready  money. 

There  was  also  a  very  good  water-power  on  the  place, 
furnished  by  a  creek  which  divided  the  estate  into  two 
parts.  Once  there  had  been  a  gristmill  on  its  banks,  but 
Sherman  had  destroyed  it  and  the  dam ;  only  the  millstones 
were  left  intact.  General  Dennis,  a  carpetbagger,  superin- 
tendent of  the  penitentiary,  sized  up  my  situation  and 
generously  (?)  came  to  my  relief  with  a  proposition  that  if 
I  would  give  him  the  hay  crop,  he  would  build  a  dam  and 
rehabilitate  the  mill  for  me.  I  grabbed  at  the  offer  as  a 
drowning  man  would  at  a  straw,  with  the  result  that  Gen- 
eral Dennis  brought  his  convicts  down  to  the  plantation, 


The  Legislative  Circus  341 

harvested  the  hay,  and  when  the  last  load  had  safely  come 
across  the  bridge  he  tore  that  structure  down  and  pretended 
for  a  few  days  to  be  busily  engaged  in  repairing  my  dam. 
He  soon  wearied  of  the  farce  and  I  saw  no  more  of  either 
him,  his  convicts,  or  my  hay  crop.  I  had  enough  sense  left 
not  to  go  to  law  with  him  about  it,  as  a  negro  jury  or  a  car- 
petbag judge  would  surely  have  decided  in  favor  of  Dennis, 
who  was  a  political  leader.  I  simply  should  have  had  to 
pay  the  costs  of  court,  and  should  have  been  lucky  if  they 
had  not  awarded  Dennis  damages  against  me. 

Things  were  fast  going  from  bad  to  worse.  Ill-gotten 
wealth  and  power  had  made  the  carpetbaggers  more  arro- 
gant and  offensive  than  ever,  and  day  by  day  the  ignorant 
negroes  became  more  impossible  to  deal  with.  In  the  coun- 
try a  white  woman  did  not  dare  go  more  than  fifty  paces 
from  her  own  front  door,  and  after  every  outrage  there  was 
a  lynching  as  sure  as  the  night  followed  day.  There  was 
very  little  secrecy  about  it  and  everybody  knew  who  the 
lynchers  were,  but  the  carpetbag  and  city  negro  constables 
felt  a  delicacy  about  risking  "malaria "by  going  into  the 
country  to  make  arrests. 

The  only  place  of  amusement  open  in  Columbia  was  the 
legislative  circus,  whose  real  business  was  transacted  by 
some  half  a  dozen  white  scamps  in  the  privacy  of  their  com- 
mittee rooms  while  the  ricefield  negroes  from  the  low  coun- 
try and  the  cornfield  negroes  from  the  up-country  mouthed 
and  made  faces  at  each  other  on  the  floor  of  the  House, 
laboring  under  the  impression  that  they  were  engaged  in 
important  argument. 

There  was  a  shrewd  negro  member  by  the  name  of 
Beverly  Nash,  who  prided  himself  on  his  courtly  manners 
and  his  knowledge  of  legislative  etiquette,  and  it  was  said 
that  no  white  carpetbagger  had  ever  been  smart  enough 
to  get  away  with  his  (Nash's)  share  of  the  swag  in  any 
public  robbery.  Beverly  had  been  the  body-servant  of 
an  ante-bellum  member  of  the  legislature,  and  in  the  old 


342        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

days  had  attended  his  master  at  many  sessions  of  that 
august  body.  Whenever  the  language  in  debate  between 
the  negroes  grew  too  heated,  or  too  strong,  Beverly  would 
always  arise  to  a  question  of  personal  privilege,  and  preface 
his  remarks  by  saying:  "Mr.  Speaker,  when  real  gentlemen 
used  to  occupy  these  seats  befo'  de  wah,  dey  nevah  used  no 
sich  language  as  dat  widout  somebody  got  shot  or  else  got 
der  heads  knocked  off  wif  a  gov'ment  inkstand!" 

Rumors  of  the  outrageous  and  excessive  taxation  imposed 
upon  the  citizens  by  the  legislature  had  reached  even  the 
ears  of  a  Republican  Congress,  and  an  investigating  com- 
mittee was  sent  to  Columbia.  If  they  ever  conferred  with 
or  examined  anybody  besides  the  leading  carpetbaggers,  I 
never  heard  of  it.  The  Congressmen  were  informed  by  these 
worthies  that  the  landowners  had  no  cause  for  complaint, 
as  they  were  taxed  only  two  and  a  half  per  cent  on  the  value 
of  their  property  and  that  the  people  of  New  York  State 
were  taxed  at  the  same  rate,  and  this  appeared  to  the  Con- 
gressmen to  be  fair  enough.  But  the  carpetbaggers  did  not 
tell  the  committee  that  in  New  York  a  man  was  taxed  on 
one  half  to  two  thirds  of  the  actual  value  of  his  property, 
and  in  South  Carolina  on  ten  times  as  much  as  it  could  pos- 
sibly be  sold  for.  Take  my  case  as  an  example.  The  Hamp- 
ton plantation  was  taxed  on  a  valuation  of  some  two  hun- 
dred and  sixty-odd  thousand  dollars.  I  went  before  the 
"board  of  equalization,"  which  the  committee  had  insisted 
should  be  organized  and  which,  of  course,  was  composed 
entirely  of  carpetbaggers,  and  made  my  protest,  with  no 
avail.  I  even  offered  to  sell  the  property  to  any  member  of 
the  board  for  thirty  thousand  dollars,  but  they  had  looked 
up  the  records  and  found  that  Mr.  Trenholm  had  paid  the 
Hamptons  in  1862,  when  Confederate  money  was  worth 
something,  one  million  dollars  besides  giving  them  a 
bond  for  three  hundred  thousand  dollars  payable  in  gold 
six  months  after  peace  was  declared  between  the  North 
and  South.    They  considered  that  they  were  letting  me  off 


A  Tax  Sale  343 

very  cheap,  and  declined  to  take  into  consideration  the  fact 
that  when  Mr.  Trenholm  had  purchased,  there  were  hun- 
dreds of  slaves,  and  herds  of  blooded  horses  and  cattle, 
besides  flocks  of  sheep  of  rare  breeds  and  also  Angora  goats. 
So  far  as  my  offer  to  sell  them  the  property  for  thirty  thou- 
sand dollars  was  concerned,  they  were  a  "board  of  equali- 
zation," and  not  real  estate  speculators. 

At  last  the  day  came  when  my  property  was  put  up  for 
sale  for  past-due  taxes.  Of  course  no  Southern  gentleman, 
even  if  he  had  had  the  money,  would  have  bid  for  the  estate 
of  a  fellow  sufferer  at  a  tax  sale,  but  there  were  creatures 
who  had  plenty  of  cash  who  would.  I  told  the  auctioneer 
that  I  hoped  he  would  get  more  for  the  plantation  than  the 
taxes  amounted  to,  as  I  would  appreciate  what  was  left  over. 
The  auctioneer  smiled  and  invited  me  to  talk  to  the  crowd 
and  invite  them  to  bid.  I  told  him  I  would  be  delighted  to 
do  so.  It  was  rumored  in  the  crowd  that  Nagle,  the  comp- 
troller, was  going  to  buy  the  property.  I  told  the  assemblage 
that  it  was  useless  for  me  to  tell  them  anything  about  the 
plantation,  as  they  knew  it  as  well  as  I  did,  but  what  I  did 
want  to  tell  them  was  that  that  place  was  my  home  and  I 
would  fill  the  man  who  came  on  it  with  a  tax  title  so  full  of 
lead  he  would  never  be  able  to  swim  again.  Instantly  the 
crowd  began  to  call  for  Nagle,  urging  him  to  buy,  and  assur- 
ing him  that  he  would  never  die  of  chills  and  fever  if  he  did. 
There  were  no  bids  and  the  sale  was  postponed  for  another 
month,  and  month  after  month  on  every  sales-day  it  was 
offered  and  every  time  it  was  put  up  for  sale  the  crowd  would 
begin  to  yell  for  Nagle  and  urge  him  to  buy.  After  some 
months,  without  any  explanation,  the  auctioneer  no  longer 
offered  it  for  sale;  and  for  a  time  his  reasons  were  an  inex- 
plicable mystery  to  the  natives,  who  knew  that  it  was  im- 
possible that  I  could  have  raised  money  enough  to  pay  the 
taxes. 

The  Southerner  is  a  queer  composition.  As  a  good  piece 
of  breakfast  bacon  is  streaked  with  lean  and  fat,  so  is  his 


344   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

character  made  up  of  layers  of  gayety  and  sadness.  A  sor- 
rowful gloom  spreads  over  his  countenance  as  he  listens  to 
some  favorite  song,  such  as  "There  will  be  a  vacant  chair," 
or,  "Under  the  rosebush  there  is  a  grave,"  and  the  next 
instant  he  will  be  roaring  with  laughter  over  a  witty  remark, 
or  gayly  dash  off  into  the  mazes  of  the  dance.  In  this  Re- 
construction period  he  held  public  meetings  at  which  he 
proclaimed  his  intention  of  shaking  off  the  yoke  of  his  car- 
petbag and  negro  tyrants,  and  yet  insisted  that  under  no 
circumstances  would  he  break  his  parole  by  raising  his  hand 
against  the  United  States  Government  troops.  All  the  same 
he  was  grimly  determined  that  his  persecutors  should  go: 
in  carriages,  if  they  would,  or  in  hearses,  if  they  must.  The 
grave  consequences  which  might  follow  what  he  intended 
to  do  did  not  dampen  his  spirits,  however,  and  he  had  his 
barbecues  and  his  shoots  for  turkeys,  and  also  his  balls 
where  dress  coats  were  not  to  be  seen  and  where  his  devoted 
women  appeared  in  cheap  muslin  gowns,  their  very  sim- 
plicity still  more  endearing  them  to  the  hearts  of  the  men 
who  loved  them  so  dearly  and  were  so  proud  of  them. 

Poverty  was  no  bar  to  matrimony  and  there  were  marry- 
ing and  giving  in  marriage.  The  young  men  took  no 
thought  of  what  the  future  might  have  in  store,  and  the 
young  girls,  brought  up  in  an  atmosphere  of  self-denial, 
willingly  took  the  risks  with  the  men  they  loved.  I  was 
not  different  from  the  other  young  men  with  whom  I  asso- 
ciated, and  amid  the  mutterings  of  the  coming  storm  and 
while  the  old  Confederate  veterans  were  forming  rifle 
clubs  all  over  the  State,  I  married  Miss  Gabriella  Burroughs, 
a  granddaughter  of  former  Chancellor  William  Ford  De 
Saussure,  the  head  of  an  old  Huguenot  family,  and  my  sis- 
ter Sarah,  whose  journal,  "Diary  of  a  Confederate  Girl," 
was  published  recently  (19 15),  married  Captain  Francis 
W.  Dawson,  who  had  become  the  editor  of  the  "Charles- 
ton News  and  Courier."  My  wedding  took  place  some 
months  before  that  of  my  sister,  and  after  the  ceremony  I 


A  Narrow  Escape  from  Fire  345 

took  my  bride  to  the  plantation.  It  was  a  dark  night  and 
the  negroes  had,  as  a  compliment  to  the  bride,  built  bonfires 
of  pine  knots  which  lit  up  the  stately  oaks  in  the  avenue 
and  made  quite  an  impressive  picture.  Fires  in  the  night 
have  always  had  a  fascination  for  me,  but  that  night  I  got 
more  than  I  cared  for. 

My  mother  and  sister  occupied  the  second  story  of  the 
frame  house,  and  there  was  only  one  staircase  leading  from 
the  wide  hall  to  the  upper  chambers,  and  in  that  hall  was 
kept  burning  a  kerosene  swinging  lamp  on  account  of  my 
mother  being  nervous.  My  bedroom  was  on  the  lower  floor. 

There  was  no  use  my  trying  to  keep  watch  dogs,  as  I 
knew  from  experience  that  the  negroes  who  liked  chickens 
and  things  would  poison  them  as  fast  as  I  brought  them 
home.  About  the  premises,  however,  was  an  old  hound 
whose  name  was  Blitzen  —  "  peace  be  to  her  ashes."  Blit- 
zen  was  the  kind  of  a  hound  dog  that  every  one  liked 
to  kick  around  —  she  was  absolutely  good  for  nothing,  or 
so  we  all  thought.  She  could  neither  trail  a  fox  nor  give 
tongue  on  a  trail.  No  one  had  ever  heard  her  bark  at  the 
approach  of  a  stranger,  and  her  only  interest  in  life  was  to 
lie  outside  of  the  kitchen  door  and  sleepily  wait  for  the 
bones  the  cook  would  occasionally  throw  to,  or  at,  her, 
according  to  the  humor  of  that  important  person  at  the 
moment.  In  the  middle  of  the  night  I  heard  a  dog  whining 
and  scratching  at  the  back  door  and  I  got  up  to  investigate. 
As  I  opened  my  bedroom  door  imagine  my  horror  when  I 
beheld  the  yellow  pine  floor  of  the  hall  in  flames  at  the  very 
foot  of  the  staircase,  the  only  possible  means  of  escape  for 
my  mother  and  sister.  The  kerosene  lamp  had  exploded 
and  covered  the  floor  with  burning  oil.  I  rushed  back  into 
the  bedroom,  jerked  the  blankets  off  the  bed,  and  with  them 
managed  to  smother  the  flames,  but  not  before  my  hands 
were  badly  burned.  From  that  time  to  the  day  of  her  death 
no  one  was  ever  allowed  again  to  "kick  that  hound  dog 
around." 


346   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

As  time  went  on  my  financial  condition  made  my  posi- 
tion on  the  plantation  more  and  more  untenable,  until  one 
day  Colonel  Childs,  a  banker,  told  me  that  he  would  buy 
my  property  if  I  would  pay  the  taxes  up  to  date.  I  laughed 
at  such  an  offer,  as  it  was  of  course  impossible,  or  I  thought 
it  was,  for  me  to  comply  with  the  terms.  Colonel  Childs 
then  advised  me,  as  a  mere  matter  of  curiosity,  to  go  to  the 
tax  collector  and  find  out  the  exact  amount  due.  I  did  so, 
and  to  my  amazement  was  told  that  the  taxes  had  been 
paid !  I  demanded  to  know  the  name  of  the  person  who  had 
paid  them,  and  after  demurring  until  the  carpetbagger  con- 
cluded that  it  would  be  more  comfortable  to  give  me  the 
information  than  to  have  a  row,  he  told  me  that  Dr.  Nagle, 
the  comptroller  of  the  State,  had  paid  them.  Almost  burst- 
ing with  rage  and  indignation  I  hurried  to  the  State  House 
and  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  Nagle  alone  in  his  office. 
As  I  entered  he  looked  up  uneasily  and  with  his  right  hand 
started  to  open  a  drawer.  I  suspected  that  there  was  a  pistol 
in  that  drawer,  and  quickly  putting  my  hand  on  my  hip 
pocket  exclaimed,  "Stop  that!"  —  and  his  arm  fell  limply 
to  his  side.  I  wasted  no  time,  but  at  once  plunged  into  a 
statement  of  the  object  of  my  visit,  demanding  to  know  what 
he  meant  by  his  insolence  in  paying  the  taxes  on  my  prop- 
erty. He  stammered  for  a  moment,  and  then  assured  me 
that  he  did  not  wish  to  have  any  trouble  with  me,  and  that 
he  had  only  paid  the  taxes  to  rid  himself  of  the  monthly 
annoyance  of  having  all  the  toughs  of  the  town  howling  to 
him  to  buy  my  property,  their  only  purpose  being  to  make 
trouble  for  him  with  me.  Reaching  a  bundle  of  tax  receipts, 
which  were  in  a  pigeon-hole  in  his  desk,  he  handed  them  to 
me,  saying  that  rather  than  have  any  more  trouble  about  the 
matter  I  was  welcome  to  them.  He  could  well  afford  to  be 
generous,  for  Heaven  only  knows  what  the  amount  of  this 
fellow's  stealings  were  from  the  State. 

Within  the  hour  after  my  pleasant  interview  with  Nagle 
I  was  back  at  the  bank  and  amazed  Colonel  Childs  by  hand- 


The  Hampton  Plantation  Sold  347 

ing  him  the  tax  receipts.  The  transfer  of  the  titles  to  the 
estate  were  quickly  completed,  and  I  moved  to  Charleston 
where  I  accepted  a  position  in  the  office  of  the  "  News  and 
Courier"  tendered  to  me  by  my  brother-in-law  Captain 

Dawson. 


CHAPTER  XLI 

Friendly  shooting-match  —  Dancing  the  "Too  Ral  Loo"  —  Negro  mobs  — 
Dawson  wounded  —  U.S.  Regulars  attacked  with  stones  —  General  Hunt, 
U.S.A.,  takes  command  of  the  rifle  clubs  —  This  action  costs  General  Hunt 
his  promotion  on  retirement  —  Feud  between  Governor  Chamberlain  and 
Captain  Bowen,  the  sheriff  of  Charleston  County. 

The  political  situation  in  Charleston  looked  even  more 
ominous  than  that  in  Columbia.  The  white  carpetbaggers 
had  begun  to  quarrel  among  themselves  and  the  negroes 
were  becoming  enraged  because  the  white  rascals  reserved 
for  themselves  all  the  best  places  in  the  gift  of  the  State. 
Before  I  went  to  Charleston  there  had  been  a  shooting- 
match  at  a  meeting  of  the  board  of  aldermen.  Cunningham, 
a  carpetbagger,  of  course,  was  mayor,  and  he  had  in  some 
way  incurred  the  enmity  of  the  two  Mackeys,  Thomas  Jef- 
ferson and  William  M.  (cousins).  Some  hot  words  passed 
between  these  affectionate  relatives  and  simultaneously 
they  drew  their  revolvers  and  opened  fire.  The  other  aider- 
men  dived  under  the  table,  as  did  the  mayor,  and  well  for 
him  that  he  did  in  time,  for  after  the  smoke  cleared  away 
it  was  discovered  that  all  of  the  bullets  had  struck  the  wall 
in  a  small  circle  just  behind  where  the  mayor's  head  had 
been.  Of  course  neither  of  the  Mackeys  had  been  hurt.  The 
latter  were  what  we  called  "scalawags"  —  Southern  men 
who  for  office  had  joined  our  persecutors.  William  Mackey, 
to  strengthen  his  hold  on  the  negro  vote,  married  a  quadroon 
girl  who  he  claimed  was  a  descendant  of  General  Sumter,  of 
Revolutionary  fame. 

I  saw  a  queer  sight  soon  after  my  arrival  in  Charleston. 
The  negroes  seemed  to  have  gone  crazy  and  were  constantly 
parading  the  streets  —  men  and  women  —  singing  and 
dancing  a  dance  they  called  the  "Too  Ral  Loo."  They  would 
gather  by  the  hundreds  on  the  beautiful  Battery,  and  with 
the  steps  familiar  in  the  "cake-walk"  they  would  chant  the 


Street  Mobs  349 

refrain,  "  I  am  dancing  the  Too  Ral  Loo."  However,  as  they 
molested  no  one,  nobody  interfered  with  them. 

Greatly  enjoying  their  license  to  take  possession  of  the 
streets,  the  mobs  formed  without  provocation  with  more  and 
more  frequency,  and  as  long  as  they  confined  their  activi- 
ties to  dancing  and  singing  no  one  seemed  to  mind  their 
vagaries,  but  becoming  emboldened  they  began  to  throw 
stones.  That  was  the  signal  for  the  rifle  clubs  to  repair  to 
their  armories,  and  well  it  was  for  the  ignorant  creatures 
that  the  clubs  were  composed  mostly  of  veterans  of  the  war, 
who  were  under  perfect  discipline,  or  else  there  would  have 
been  a  massacre. 

Captain  Dawson,  who  was  indefatigable  in  his  efforts 
to  redeem  the  State  from  carpetbag  rule,  lashed  the  mis- 
creants unmercifully  with  his  virile  pen  and  never  failed  to 
expose  their  rascalities  and  pillory  them  before  the  public. 
The  carpetbaggers  in  revenge  had  taught  the  negroes  to 
hate  Dawson  more  bitterly  than  any  other  white  man  in  the 
State.  Dawson  had  the  energy  of  a  steam  engine  and  usually 
worked  at  his  desk  until  two  or  three  o'clock  in  the  morning. 
The  only  physical  exercise  he  allowed  himself  was  to  ride 
on  horseback  from  his  home  to  his  office  and  back  again  for 
his  meals.  A  mob  assembled  in  Broad  Street  one  day,  and 
Dawson,  on  his  way  home,  rode  through  it  with  the  result 
that  a  perfect  fusillade  of  revolver  shots  were  turned  loose 
on  him  and  one  bullet  struck  him  in  the  leg.  He  continued 
on  his  way  home,  where  he  had  his  wound  bound  up,  ate  his 
lunch,  and  then,  mounting  his  horse,  rode  back  to  his  office, 
passing  through  the  rioters  again  —  this  time  without  being 
hurt. 

General  Henry  J.  Hunt,  U.S.A.,  who  had  commanded  the 
artillery  in  the  Army  of  the  Potomac  from  the  crack  of  the 
first  gun  to  Appomattox,  was  in  command  of  the  military 
district  in  which  Charleston  was  situated,  and  unlike  his 
predecessors  he  was  very  much  respected  by  the  natives. 
He  knew  that  the  white  people  did  not  intend  to  lift  a 


350   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

finger  against  the  United  States  Government  again,  and 
he  had  kept  but  one  skeleton  company  of  artillery  at  the 
arsenal  where  he  had  his  headquarters.  There  were  only 
some  thirty-odd  men  in  the  company. 

One  day  a  mob  of  several  thousand  negro  men  and  women 
gathered  near  the  City  Hall,  and  became  very  violent  in 
their  threats,  which  this  time  were  directed  principally 
against  the  white  carpetbaggers,  who  they  claimed  had  got 
all  the  swag  and  had  not  divided  fairly  with  them,  and  they 
clamored  for  their  blood.  The  carpetbaggers  were  badly 
frightened,  fled  to  the  arsenal,  and  begged  General  Hunt 
for  protection.  General  Hunt  at  once  marched  his  skele- 
ton company  to  the  scene  of  the  riot,  and  arriving  at  the 
intersection  of  Broad  and  Meeting  Streets  he  came  face  to 
face  with  the  mob,  which  did  not  seem  disposed  to  give  way 
before  his  troops,  whom  he  had  ordered  to  ground  arms 
while  he  advanced  and  commanded  the  rioters  to  disperse. 
This  order  was  replied  to  with  jeers  and  curses,  and  while 
General  Hunt  was  trying  to  persuade  them  to  go  quietly 
to  their  homes,  they  began  to  throw  bricks  and  stones  at 
the  soldiers.  I  was  on  the  sidewalk  near  where  the  soldiers 
were  drawn  up,  and  never  did  I  see  a  better  example  of  dis- 
cipline than  was  exhibited  by  those  poor  fellows  standing 
there  like  statues,  with  their  faces  bleeding,  while  they 
awaited  orders  under  a  perfect  shower  of  missiles.  General 
Hunt  knew  that  every  negro  in  the  crowd  carried  a  weapon, 
either  pistol  or  razor,  and  he  also  knew  that  by  sheer 
weight  of  numbers  they  could  sweep  his  small  command  off 
the  street  if  they  rushed  them.  In  this  dilemma  he  asked 
some  of  the  white  bystanders  if  they  could  point  out  to  him 
the  commander  of  the  rifle  clubs  of  which  he  had  heard. 
They  directed  him  to  a  one-legged  man,  General  Conner, 
a  veteran  of  the  war,  and  General  Hunt  requested  him  to 
call  out  the  clubs,  and  form  them  behind  his  regulars. 
Almost  instantly  there  was  heard  a  bell  tolling  in  the 
steeple  of  old  St.  Michael's.    This  was  the  signal  agreed 


The  Charleston  Rifle  Clubs  351 

upon,  and  as  though  by  magic  there  came  a  rush  of  several 
companies  of  infantry,  a  battery  of  artillery,  and  a  squad- 
ron of  cavalry.  The  negroes  knew  these  men,  and  before 
they  had  fairly  taken  up  their  stations  in  support  of  the 
regulars,  the  mob  had  melted  away,  and  in  less  than  ten 
minutes  there  was  not  a  black  face  to  be  seen  on  the  street. 

The  sequel  to  this  incident  was  as  follows:  It  was,  and  is, 
the  custom  that  when  a  veteran  officer  who  served  in  the 
war  retires  he  is  given  an  additional  grade.  General  Hunt 
was  a  colonel  in  the  regular  army  with  as  fine  a  record  as  any 
officer  in  it.  During  the  war  commanders-in-chief  were  fre- 
quently changed,  but  no  one  ever  suggested  the  idea  that 
General  Hunt  could  be  improved  upon  as  chief  of  artillery. 
When  he  came  up  for  retirement,  however,  on  account  of 
age,  he  was  retired  with  only  his  rank  of  colonel  through 
some  unseen  influence,  which  came  out  of  hiding  when  an 
effort  was  made  to  pass  a  bill  through  Congress  to  give  him 
the  additional  grade.  The  very  carpetbaggers  whose  worth- 
less lives  he  had  saved  flocked  to  Washington  and  protested 
against  his  promotion  on  the  ground  that  he  was  a  rebel 
sympathizer  and  had  on  one  occasion  taken  command  of  the 
rebel  rifle  clubs  and  used  them  to  cow  the  loyal  element  in 
Charleston ! 

At  the  time  of  the  riots  in  Charleston  bitter  dissensions 
had  sprung  up  among  the  white  carpetbaggers,  the  most 
important  being  that  between  Bowen,  the  sheriff  of  Charles- 
ton County,  who  wielded  great  influence  over  the  negroes, 
and  Daniel  H.  Chamberlain,  who  was  then  governor  of  the 
State. 

Bowen  was  the  felon  who  had  occupied  the  cell  in  the 
Charleston  jail  into  which  Mr.  Trenholm,  the  former 
Secretary  of  the  Confederate  Treasury,  had  been  thrust  on 
his  arrival  in  Charleston.  Bowen  had  been  released  at 
the  time  of  the  general  jail  delivery  when  Charleston  was 
captured.  He  had  taken  refuge  on  one  of  the  sea  islands 
where  he  acquired  great  influence  over  the  negroes  during 


352   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

the  military  rule,  and  when  the  Reconstruction  began  and 
the  carpetbaggers  took  charge,  he  came  forth  from  his  se- 
clusion a  full-blown  politician. 

Even  the  most  bitter  enemies  of  Governor  Chamberlain 
recognized  him  as  a  man  of  ability.  He  was  a  man  of  re- 
finement and  brilliant  education.  One  great  reason  for  the 
intense  dislike  shown  toward  him  was  that,  when  one  of  his 
children  died  in  Columbia,  he  called  in  a  negro  preacher 
to  perform  the  burial  services.  But  I  have  heard  that 
Chamberlain  said  his  reason  for  this  was  that  at  such  a 
time  he  did  not  care  to  subject  himself  to  the  chance  of 
a  rebuff  from  any  of  the  white  ministers.  Governor 
Chamberlain  soon  found  himself  between  two  fires  —  the 
enmity  of  the  white  natives  on  one  side,  and  the  bitter 
hatred  of  the  carpetbaggers,  who  had  discovered  that  they 
could  not  control  him,  on  the  other. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

Captain  Dawson,  editor  of  the  "Charleston  News  and  Courier,"  denounces 
Bowen  as  the  assassin  of  Colonel  White  —  Bowen  brings  libel  suit  —  Eli 
Grimes,  the  actual  murderer,  located  —  I  go  to  Leesville  and  bring  Grimes  to 
Charleston  to  testify  —  Grimes  attempts  to  kill  himself  —  Grimes's  sensational 
testimony  —  Mistrial. 

The  fortune  of  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Mrs. 
King,  who  had  saved  Mr.  Trenholm's  gold  for  him  while  he 
occupied  the  felon's  cell  in  Charleston  jail  so  recently  va- 
cated by  Captain  Bowen,  had  suffered  like  those  of  the  rest 
of  the  people  of  Charleston,  and  it  was  necessary  for  her  to 
obtain  employment,  which  she  easily  found  in  the  United 
States  Treasury.  Clerks,  if  they  know  what  is  good  for 
them,  don't  rebuff  Congressmen.  It  was  Mrs.  King's  mis- 
fortune to  meet  Bowen,  then  a  full-fledged  Congressman. 
To  escape  her  unaccustomed  drudgery  she  married  this 
fellow,  and  in  less  than  a  year  a  previous  wife  turned  up 
and  had  Bowen  indicted,  tried,  and  convicted  on  a  charge 
of  bigamy.  He  was  sent  to  the  penitentiary,  but  only  re- 
mained there  for  a  short  time,  as  he  had  a  strong  political 
pull.  He  was  pardoned  and  returned  to  Charleston  where 
he  was  immediately  elected  sheriff  of  the  county. 

Captain  Dawson,  editor  of  the  "Charleston  News  and 
Courier,"  who,  figuratively  speaking,  could  attach  the  sting 
of  a  hornet  to  the  nib  of  his  pen  and  write  with  it,  merci- 
lessly attacked  Bowen  in  the  columns  of  his  paper.  Bowen, 
having  no  character  to  lose,  for  a  time  ignored  the  editor, 
but  when  Dawson  boldly  charged  him  with  the  murder  of 
Colonel  White  during  the  latter  part  of  the  war,  even  the 
carpetbaggers  insisted  that  the  sheriff  should  take  some 
action  against  him.  He  sued  Dawson  for  libel,  claiming 
damages  in  the  sum  of  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 

The  facts  of  the  case  as  charged  by  Dawson  were  that 
Colonel  White  had  put  Bowen  under  arrest  for  some  breach 


354   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

of  discipline  and  had  thereby  earned  the  latter's  enmity; 
that  Bowen  had  a  private  soldier  in  his  company  who  had 
committed  a  murder,  of  which  crime  Bowen  alone  was 
cognizant,  and  naturally  had  Eli  Grimes,  the  private,  in 
his  power.  He  commanded  Grimes  to  kill  Colonel  White. 
Grimes  demurred,  and  Bowen  threatened  to  inform  the 
civil  authorities  in  Lee  County,  southwestern  Georgia, 
where  the  crime  had  been  committed.  Frightened,  Grimes 
agreed  to  do  as  his  tormentor  wished.  On  his  first  attempt 
to  assassinate  his  colonel  he  hid  in  a  " turkey  blind"  situ- 
ated on  a  path  which  Colonel  White  used  twice  a  day,  but 
the  murderer's  heart  failed  him  and  he  let  his  intended  vic- 
tim pass  without  firing.  He  made  the  excuse  to  Bowen  that 
the  spring  of  the  lock  of  his  gun  was  out  of  order.  Bowen 
then  gave  him  a  new  carbine  and  warned  him  that  if  Col- 
onel White  was  alive  the  next  morning  he  would  inform  him 
of  the  murder  Grimes  had  committed  in  Georgia.  At  about 
ten  o'clock  in  the  night  Colonel  White  was  reading  by  a 
small  lamp  in  a  room  of  the  weatherboarded  shanty  which 
he  occupied,  and  Grimes,  having  located  his  position  by  the 
light,  sneaked  up  to  the  side  of  the  house  and  fired  through 
the  thin  weatherboarding,  killing  White  instantly.  Grimes 
escaped  into  the  swamp,  but  was  soon  surrounded  and  cap- 
tured. Grimes  at  once  implicated  Bowen  in  the  crime,  and 
both  of  them  were  arrested  and  put  on  a  train  for  Charleston 
where  they  were  to  be  tried,  but  Grimes,  although  he  was 
in  irons,  eluded  the  vigilance  of  his  guard  and  jumped  out 
of  a  window  of  the  slow-moving  train  while  it  was  on  the 
trestle,  some  ten  miles  long,  which  spans  the  Santee  Swamp. 
It  was  supposed  that  he  had  been  drowned  or  that  the 
alligators  which  infest  the  swamp  had  made  a  meal  of  him. 
Bowen  was  safely  landed  in  the  Charleston  jail,  where  he 
was  when  the  Union  troops  took  possession  of  the  city  and 
opened  the  prison  doors. 

Bowen  brought  his  libel  suit  in  1875,  eleven  years  after  the 
murder  had  been  committed.     Colonel  White's  command 


Colonel  Dawson  and  Sheriff  Bowen     355 

had  scattered,  so  Dawson  had  no  witnesses  by  whom  he 
could  prove  his  charge.  The  loss  of  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars,  or  any  large  part  of  such  a  sum,  meant  financial 
ruin  to  him,  and  the  fact  that  the  case  would  be  tried  before 
a  carpetbag  judge  and  a  jury  composed  mostly  of  negroes, 
the  panel  for  which  would  be  chosen  by  Bowen's  henchmen, 
was  not  reassuring.  While  in  this  dilemma  Dawson  received 
a  letter  postmarked  Louisville,  Kentucky,  from  a  woman, 
who  stated  in  it  that  "she  was  Bowen's  legal  wife  and  that 
she  wanted  to  get  even  with  him."  She  also  asserted  that 
Eli  Grimes  was  not  dead,  and  that  he  had  as  great  a  de- 
sire to  get  even  with  Bowen  as  she  had,  and  that  if  Captain 
Dawson  would  go  to  Lee  County,  Georgia,  he  would  find  the 
man.  She  advised  Dawson  to  be  very  careful,  as  Grimes  was 
a  desperate  and  dangerous  fellow;  that  she  was  from  Lee 
County  herself  and  knew  what  she  was  talking  about. 

This  Mrs.  Bowen  was  the  same  woman  who,  under  the 
alias  of  Mrs.  House,  became  a  celebrated  criminal  and 
landed  in  the  New  Jersey  penitentiary  for  the  crime  or 
crimes  of  having  put  out  of  the  world  several  husbands  by 
poisoning  them. 

Captain  Dawson  went  to  Leesville,  Georgia,  a  county 
seat,  saw  Grimes,  and  persuaded  him  to  allow  himself  to 
be  locked  up  until  it  was  time  for  him  to  testify  against 
Bowen.  It  was  deemed  advisable  to  keep  secret  the  fact 
that  Grimes  was  alive  until  he  could  be  produced  at  the 
trial.  When  that  time  arrived,  I  volunteered  to  go  after 
Grimes.  Dawson  went  with  me  to  Columbia,  South  Caro- 
lina, and  explained  the  case  to  Governor  Chamberlain,  who 
gladly  embraced  the  opportunity  to  punish  his  arch-enemy, 
Bowen.  He  secretly  made  out  extradition  papers  and  ap- 
pointed me  a  state  constable  to  bring  back  Eli  Grimes, 
charged  with  murder.  The  Governor  of  Georgia,  a  Demo- 
crat, was  delighted  to  honor  the  requisition. 

I  proceeded  to  Leesville  and  was  much  disappointed  to 
find  that  Eli  had  tired  of  the  monotony  of  the  jail  and  had 


356        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

left.  The  sheriff,  to  whom  I  carried  a  letter  from  the  gover- 
nor, informed  me  that  he  did  not  care  to  be  mixed  up  in  the 
case;  that  Grimes  belonged  to  a  large  clan  of  poor  whites, 
and  that  they  were  a  dangerous  lot.  He  also  advised  that  I 
take  a  train  bound  north,  which  was  shortly  due,  as  it  would 
be  better  for  my  health  to  get  away  before  the  Grimes 
family  learned  what  I  had  come  for.  The  only  compromise 
I  could  effect  was  that  he  would  show  me  where  Grimes  lived 
in  the  suburbs.  He  also  agreed  to  lock  Grimes  up  if  I 
brought  him  to  the  jail  with  my  warrant.  I  waited  until 
an  hour  before  day,  and  then,  armed  with  a  revolver  and  a 
pair  of  handcuffs,  I  went  to  Eli's  house  and  knocked  at  the 
door  which,  after  a  short  wait,  was  opened  a  hand's  breadth. 
Seeing  that  it  was  not  going  to  be  opened  any  wider,  I 
exclaimed,  "In  the  name  of  the  law  I  arrest  you!"  —  and 
throwing  my  full  weight  against  the  obstruction  I  burst 
into  the  room  and  instantly  found  myself  grappling  with 
my  prisoner.  We  struggled  all  over  the  room  while  a  woman 
in  scant  night  attire  leaned  over  the  banister  above  us  shriek- 
ing at  the  top  of  her  voice.  Suddenly  the  banister  gave  way 
and  the  woman  tumbled  down,  landing  on  our  heads, 
knocking  both  of  us  to  the  floor.  I  fell  on  top  of  Grimes,  and 
the  almost  nude  woman,  now  insensible,  lay  alongside  of  us. 
I  quickly  put  the  handcuffs  on  Grimes  and  ordered  him  to 
stand  up  and  precede  me  to  the  door,  emphasizing  my 
command  by  the  display  of  my  pistol.  Grimes  demurred 
because  he  had  on  only  his  underclothes.  Not  knowing 
that  his  wife  was  in  a  faint,  he  commanded  her  to  get  his 
gun,  and  as  she  did  not  move  he  cursed  her  in  a  most 
shocking  way.  I  forced  him  out  of  the  house,  and  on  the 
way  to  the  jail  promised  him  that  not  a  hair  of  his  head 
should  come  to  harm,  and  told  him  that  Captain  Dawson 
had  the  promise  of  the  governor  that  even  if  there  was  a 
trial  and  conviction,  he  would  pardon  him  for  the  crime 
committed  more  than  ten  years  before. 

When  I  got  Grimes  in  his  cell  I  left  him  in  the  care  of 


An  Unwilling  Witness  357 

the  one-legged  keeper,  who  was  himself  a  prisoner,  but  a 
"trusty,"  and  went  to  the  sheriff's  house,  where  I  was  in- 
vited to  have  breakfast.  I  had  hardly  eaten  a  mouthful 
when  the  one-legged  "  trusty,"  with  only  one  crutch, 
bounded  into  the  room  exclaiming,  "Eli  Grimes  is  dead!" 
We  leaped  to  our  feet  and  rushed  to  the  prison,  and  when 
the  cell  door  was  opened  we  beheld  a  gruesome  sight.  Eli's 
body  lay  on  the  floor  and  his  mangled  head  and  face  were 
covered  with  blood.  The  village  doctor  was  summoned  and 
much  to  my  relief  pronounced  the  man  to  be  still  alive.  He 
bathed  and  bandaged  his  damaged  head,  and  in  an  hour 
Grimes,  apparently,  was  himself  again.  The  "trusty"  told 
the  sheriff  that  after  I  had  left  the  jail  Grimes  swore  I 
should  never  take  him  to  South  Carolina  alive,  and  that  he, 
the  "trusty,"  had  paid  no  attention  to  what  he  said,  but 
went  to  another  part  of  the  building  to  attend  to  his  duties, 
when  suddenly  he  heard  some  awful  thuds,  and  going  to 
Grimes's  cell  found  that  worthy  engaged  in  running  the 
length  of  his  narrow  quarters  and  with  all  his  force  striking 
his  head  against  the  steel  with  which  the  walls  were  lined. 

The  Grimes  family  soon  assembled  and  made  threats, 
but  I  persuaded  them  that  no  harm  should  befall  Eli.  The 
doctor  advised  me  to  take  him  away  on  the  first  train,  as, 
he  said,  unless  I  took  him  away  before  dark,  his  friends 
would  rescue  him. 

When  I  arrived  at  Macon  I  found  I  had  a  very  ill  man  on 
my  hands,  and  I  had  to  ask  the  hospitality  of  the  local  jail. 
Oh,  the  days  I  spent  in  jail  with  that  raving  criminal,  who 
was  "out  of  his  head"  from  the  effects  of  a  raging  fever. 
Had  I  been  that  wretch's  mother  I  could  not  have  nursed 
him  more  tenderly. 

When  Grimes  was  able  to  travel  I  took  him  to  Augusta, 
Georgia,  to  await  further  instructions,  and  of  course  had 
to  occupy  the  same  cell  with  him  as  a  precaution  against 
his  again  trying  to  commit  suicide.  A  dead  Grimes  would 
have  been  of  no  use  to  Captain  Dawson. 


358        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

We  were  taken  to  Charleston  on  a  special  train  and  on 
arriving  there  I  dressed  Grimes  in  a  suit  of  my  own  clothes 
and  had  him  shaved  and  his  hair  cut.  We  then  wandered 
around  the  city  until  it  was  time  for  him  to  appear  in  court, 
where  we  took  our  seats  among  the  crowded  spectators. 
The  trial  proceeded  in  a  desultory  manner  until  one  of 
Dawson's  counsel  asked  that  Eli  Grimes  should  be  called. 
Bowen  and  his  lawyers  burst  into  such  loud  laughter  at  this 
that  the  judge  rapped  for  order.  The  court  crier  went  to  the 
door  and  perfunctorily  called  "Eli  Grimes !"  I  took  that 
individual  by  the  arm  and  steered  him  through  the  throng 
of  spectators  until  I  landed  him  safely  in  the  witness  box. 
Grimes  was  sworn,  but  so  certain  was  Bowen  that  the  man 
was  dead  that  he  and  his  friends  had  paid  no  attention  to 
what  was  going  on  until  Grimes,  when  asked  his  name,  in 
a  loud  voice  answered,  "Eli  Grimes!" 

The  appearance  of  the  supposedly  dead  man  must  have 
shocked  Bowen  considerably,  for  he  turned  an  ashen  color, 
gasped,  and  appeared  about  to  faint,  but  was  revived  with 
a  glass  of  water. 

One  of  the  first  questions  asked  the  witness  was,  "Who 
killed  Colonel  White?"  Before  answering,  Grimes  pointed 
his  finger  at  Bowen  and  said,  "If  you  will  make  that  man 
look  me  in  the  eyes  I  will  tell  you."  But  Bowen  did  not 
accept  the  challenge.  Grimes  said,  "I  knew  he  did  n't  dare 
do  it."  And  then  in  a  most  impressive  manner  he  turned 
to  the  court  and  said,  "Judge,  I  pulled  the  trigger,  but  there 
[pointing  to  Bowen]  is  the  man  who  killed  Colonel  White." 
He  then  went  on  to  tell  of  his  acquaintance  with  Bowen,  who 
at  home  was  a  professional  gambler,  and  how  he  in  a  fracas 
had  killed  (in  a  most  cowardly  manner)  a  neighbor  during  a 
quarrel  about  a  hog.  It  was  in  a  lonely  spot  in  the  woods 
and  he  buried  his  victim  so  well  that  he  felt  sure  his  crime 
would  never  be  known,  but  when  he  looked  around  he  saw 
Bowen,  who  was  squirrel  hunting. 

It  was  early  in  the  war  and  Bowen,  who  was  raising  a 


The  End  of  a  Libel  Suit  359 

volunteer  company,  asked  him  to  enlist,  but  that  he  had 
replied  that  it  was  a  rich  man's  war  and  as  he,  Grimes,  did 
not  own  any  "niggers,"  he  did  not  see  why  he  should  be 
expected  to  fight  for  them.  Whereupon  Bowen  quietly 
informed  him  that  if  he  did  not  enlist  at  once,  he,  Bowen, 
would  inform  the  authorities  where  they  could  find  the  body 
of  the  dead  man,  and  also  the  man  who  killed  him,  and 
intimated  that  there  would  be  a  hanging  soon.  Badly 
frightened,  Grimes  enlisted.  When  their  regiment  was  on 
North  Island,  South  Carolina,  Bowen  had  some  trouble  with 
his  colonel  and  proposed  that  Grimes  should  kill  him,  but 
Grimes  demurred ;  saying  that  he  had  nothing  against  that 
officer.  But  Bowen  again  threatened  him  and  frightened  him 
into  doing  it. 

When  Grimes  had  finished  his  testimony,  Bowen  fairly 
shrieked  to  his  deputies  to  "Arrest  that  man!"  But  I 
showed  my  instructions  from  the  governor  to  bring  Grimes 
to  Columbia  and  the  judge  ordered  that  I  should  be  al- 
lowed to  proceed. 

The  case  resulted  in  a  mistrial,  and  that  was  much  better 
than  Captain  Dawson  had  expected.  As  Grimes  had  come 
back  to  life,  Bowen  never  dared  to  demand  a  retrial,  and 
Dawson  resumed  his  pen- lashings. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

Exciting  political  campaign  of  1875  —  I  return  to  Columbia  —  The  dual 
legislature  —  Hamilton,  negro  member  of  the  legislature,  makes  a  Democratic 
speech  —  The  military  evict  the  Democrats  from  the  Capitol. 

The  political  campaign  of  1875  was  probably  the  most  ex- 
citing one  that  this  or  any  other  country  ever  went  through, 
and  it  was  a  red-hot  one  in  South  Carolina  as  the  native- 
born  population  of  that  State  had  determined,  cost  what  it 
would,  to  overthrow  the  carpetbag  and  negro  government 
and  free  themselves  from  a  tyranny  that  was  no  longer  bear- 
able. None  but  a  desperate  people  would  have  dreamed 
that  it  could  be  done,  as  the  negroes  not  only  greatly  out- 
numbered the  whites,  but,  not  satisfied  with  their  great 
normal  majority,  on  election  days,  permitted  many  darky 
boys,  ranging  between  the  ages  of  seventeen  and  twenty, 
to  vote,  as  no  one  could  swear  positively  to  a  negro's  age. 
Black  women  were  also  allowed  to  vote  by  the  election  of- 
ficials, who  were,  of  course,  appointed  by  the  carpetbaggers, 
and  it  took  an  expert  to  detect  the  sex  of  a  flat-chested  negro 
woman  of  over  forty  years  of  age  when  she  was  dressed  in 
men's  clothes.  I  remember  one  instance  a  negro  man,  chal- 
lenged at  the  polls,  with  tears  in  his  eyes  acknowledging  that 
he  had  voted  at  the  other  precincts,  but  protested  that  he 
had  not  before  voted  at  that  particular  polling-booth ! 

Besides  the  great  majority  that  was  to  be  overcome  it 
was  necessary  to  avoid  any  conflict  with  the  United  States 
Government  or  its  troops.  General  Wade  Hampton,  Gen- 
eral M.  C.  Butler,  General  Gary,  and  Captain  Dawson  were 
the  acknowledged  leaders  of  the  forlorn  hope,  and  rifle  clubs 
were  formed  all  over  the  State.  These  clubs  were  called  by 
the  carpetbaggers  "Redshirts,"  as  for  economical  reasons 
they  wore  red  flannel  shirts  instead  of  more  costly  uniforms. 
The  carpetbaggers  tried  to  give  the  National  Government 


The  Political  Campaign  of  1875         361 

the  impression  that  these  clubs  were  simply  made  up  of  ban- 
dits when  the  truth  was  that  they  were  composed  mostly 
of  veterans  of  the  Civil  War,  men  who  belonged  to  the  best 
families  in  the  State. 

For  the  first  time  a  great  and  united  effort  was  made  by 
the  native  whites  to  influence  the  colored  vote.  Heretofore 
the  blacks  had  to  a  man  voted  the  Republican  ticket,  and 
now,  although  they  spoke  with  the  greatest  contempt  of  the 
carpetbaggers,  they  could  not  be  induced  to  vote  against 
them  on  election  day.  Many  amusing  stories  were  told  at 
the  expense  of  those  who  endeavored  to  convert  Sambo  and 
induce  him  to  embrace  Democratic  doctrines.  One  of  them 
was  that  General  Hampton  had  met  one  of  his  former  slaves 
and  asked  him  what  he  had  in  a  basket  which  the  fellow  was 
carrying  on  his  arm.  The  man  said  he  had  some  puppies  in 
it.  The  general,  who  was  an  ardent  sportsman,  asked  what 
kind  of  puppies  they  were,  and  the  darky,  removing  the 
cover,  disclosed  three  or  four  newly  born  pups,  at  the  same 
time  saying,  "Dey  is  good  Democratic  pups,  suh."A  month 
later  the  general  met  the  same  negro  with  the  same  basket 
and  again  asked  him  what  was  in  it,  and  again  the  man  re- 
plied, "Pups,  suh."  "What  kind  of  puppies  have  you  to- 
day," laughingly  inquired  the  general;  and  the  darky  re 
plied  "Good  Republican  pups,  suh,"  —  and  uncovered  his 
basket.  The  general,  who  never  forgot  a  horse  or  a  dog, 
said,  "Why,  Sam,  you  rascal,  those  are  the  same  puppies  you 
showed  me  a  month  ago  and  told  me  that  they  were  good 
Democratic  puppies!"  "Yes,  Mas'  Wade,"  replied  the 
darky ;  "  but  don't  you  see  dey  done  got  der  eyes  open  now! " 

Of  course  all  efforts  to  wean  the  negroes  from  the  Re- 
publican Party  were  futile,  but  the  whites  had  great  hopes 
that  the  dissensions  among  the  carpetbaggers  would  disrupt 
their  party.  They  soon  learned  that  in  those  days  the  Re- 
publican Party  did  not  divide  on  election  day. 

Wherever  in  the  State  the  carpetbaggers  held  a  political 
meeting,  there  would  assemble  the  whites  and  insist  on  a 


362   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

division  of  time  with  their  orators.  It  was  embarrassing  to 
the  aliens. 

Captain  Dawson  asked  me  to  go  to  Columbia,  as  he 
thought  I  could  be  of  service  to  the  cause  in  Richland  Dis- 
trict, as  the  county  was  called  at  that  time.  Shortly  after 
my  arrival  in  the  capital  we  heard  that  the  Republicans 
were  to  hold  a  great  mass  meeting  in  Edgefield  District,  the 
home  of  General  M.  C.  Butler.  The  word  was  passed  to  the 
members  of  the  rifle  clubs,  and  those  within  reach,  as  usual, 
attended  the  meeting.  A  platform  had  been  erected  in  a 
grove  of  trees,  and  seated  on  it  were  Governor  Chamber- 
lain and  a  number  of  his  most  prominent  black  and  white 
lieutenants.  The  speaker's  stand  was  surrounded  by  a 
dense  mass  of  blacks  through  which  we  forced  our  horses, 
and  as  many  of  us  as  could  find  room  took  up  our  positions 
as  near  the  stand  as  possible. 

General  Butler,  against  the  protests  of  the  carpetbaggers, 
forced  his  way  on  to  the  stand,  accompanied  by  several 
others.  General  Butler  was  an  extraordinarily  handsome 
man  —  tall  and  graceful,  and  possessed  of  the  manners  of  a 
Chesterfield.  His  courtesy  and  winning  smile  made  friends 
of  all  who  came  in  contact  with  him.  At  one  of  the  battles 
in  Virginia  a  shell  had  struck  his  horse  in  the  breast  and  ex- 
ploded inside  of  the  animal,  shattering  the  general's  leg  so 
badly  that  it  had  to  be  amputated  below  the  knee;  but  so 
well  did  he  manage  his  artificial  limb  that  for  several  years 
after  the  war  was  over  he  used  to  dance  at  balls,  and  it  was 
difficult  to  convince  strangers  that  he  was  a  one-legged  man. 
In  the  hour  of  danger  he  was  one  of  the  coolest  men  I  ever 
saw,  and  he  feared  neither  man  nor  devil.  But  with  all  of  his 
beautiful  manners,  when  he  wanted  to,  he  could  be  the  most 
cold-blooded,  insolent  human  being  that  mortal  eyes  ever 
beheld.  Without  saying  so  much  as  "by  your  leave"  to 
the  assembled  carpetbaggers,  Butler  began  to  harangue  the 
crowd,  denouncing  the  Republican  leaders  who  were  pres- 
ent.   While  he  was  tongue-lashing  Chamberlain,  he  stood 


The  Political  Campaign  of  1875  363 

over  him  shaking  his  finger  almost  in  his  face.  Chamberlain, 
who  was  a  bald-headed  man,  was  seated  with  one  elbow  rest- 
ing on  the  arm  of  his  chair  and  his  forefinger  was  moving 
nervously  back  and  forth  in  the  rim  of  hair  below  his  bald 
spot  and  just  above  his  ear.  Suddenly,  during  one  of  the 
pauses  in  General  Butler's  speech,  a  voice  in  the  audience 
rang  out  with  "Run  him  out  in  the  clearing,  Governor,  and 
I  will  shoot  him  for  you!"  Looking  in  the  direction  from 
whence  the  interruption  came,  I  saw  a  "  redshirt,"  mounted 
on  his  horse,  not  ten  feet  from  the  governor,  with  a  Colt's 
revolver  aimed  at  the  head  of  the  chief  magistrate  of  the 
State.  But  at  a  word  from  Butler  he  lowered  his  weapon  and 
kept  quiet  during  the  rest  of  the  speaking. 

The  negroes,  naturally  afraid  of  their  former  masters,  be- 
came somewhat  terrorized,  and  when  the  redshirts  ap- 
peared at  their  meetings  the  more  timid  among  them  would 
quietly  sneak  away.  Of  course  there  were  clashes  in  various 
parts  of  the  State,  but  the  blacks  had  become  so  nervous 
that  the  white  carpetbaggers  could  not  induce  them  to 
v*stand  their  ground,  and  the  meetings  soon  took  on  a  decided 
Democratic  hue.  The  few  Republican  speeches  made  be- 
came very  conservative,  and  the  eyes  of  the  speakers,  while 
they  were  delivering  them,  looked  as  wild  as  those  of  a  cor- 
nered jack-rabbit  looking  for  some  means  of  escape. 

Some  extraordinary  incidents  occurred.  The  night  before 
the  election  a  barbecue  was  held  on  a  plantation,  which  was 
a  polling  precinct  where  several  hundred  negroes  and  pos- 
sibly half  a  dozen  whites  voted,  and  the  next  day  it  was  car- 
ried by  an  enormous  Democratic  majority.  The  negroes 
always  voted  the  straight  Republican  ticket,  and  the  whites, 
of  course,  voted  the  Democratic;  and  it  seemed  a  strange 
reversal  of  form  only  to  be  accounted  for  by  the  fact  that 
some  old  veterans  knew  where  two  Confederate  brass 
field-pieces  had  been  buried  to  keep  them  from  falling  into 
General  Sherman's  hands.  These  cannon  had  been  disin- 
terred, and  manned  as  a  section  of  artillery,  they  had  been 


364   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

brought  to  the  barbecue.  In  the  small  hours  of  the  night  a 
drill  had  been  ordered,  and  several  shells  had  burst  in  the 
air,  with  the  result  that  when  the  polls  were  opened  in  the 
morning  no  negroes  were  around  there  to  vote. 

I  do  not  suppose  that  any  one  claimed  that  the  famous 
election  of  November,  1875,  was  a  fair  one.  Where  the 
negroes  were  in  such  a  majority  that  they  could  manage 
things  in  their  own  way,  negro  women  and  boys  under  age 
voted  with  impunity  and  repeated  as  often  as  they  felt  dis- 
posed. On  the  other  hand,  the  whites  in  some  places  played 
practical  jokes  which  were  highly  successful  in  their  results. 
At  one  precinct  in  the  country,  where  it  was  considered  im- 
possible to  overcome  the  great  black  majority,  two  young 
white  men  did  the  trick  quite  successfully.  They  had  posted 
themselves  in  front  of  the  voting-booth  as  challengers  of 
illegal  voters  —  they  were  brothers-in-law  and  devoted 
friends.  While  the  voting  was  going  on,  to  the  amazement  of 
the  onlookers,  they  became  involved  in  a  quarrel  in  which 
one  of  them  called  the  other  a  liar.  Instantly  they  both  drew 
their  weapons  and  began  to  shoot.  It  was  afterwards  dis- 
covered that  most  of  their  bullets  landed  in  the  polling- 
booth.  The  negro  judges  of  the  election  fled,  but  the  sole 
Democratic  official,  who  usually,  at  elections,  could  get  no 
one  to  listen  to  his  protests,  was  left  alone  in  charge  of  the 
ballot  boxes  and  took  them  safely  to  the  capital,  where, 
when  opened,  their  contents  fairly  staggered  the  Republi- 
can officials  so  great  was  the  Democratic  majority  in  this 
usually  overwhelming  Republican  precinct. 

The  carpetbag  officials,  of  course,  counted  the  Demo- 
crats out  —  and  the  native  whites  swore  a  mighty  oath  that 
no  longer  would  they  submit  to  carpetbagger  and  negro 
domination.  They  proclaimed  General  Hampton  and  the 
Democratic  candidates  for  the  legislature  as  elected,  and 
the  rifle  clubs  began  to  gather  in  the  vicinity  of  the  capital. 

Two  legislatures  assembled  in  Columbia.  The  carpetbag- 
gers and  negroes  had  possession  of  the  State  House,  and  the 


The  Dual  Legislature  365 

Democratic  body  met  in  the  local  court-house  —  each  claim- 
ing to  be  the  legal  lawmakers  for  the  State. 

One  night  some  twenty  or  thirty  young  men,  myself 
among  the  number,  although  none  of  us  were  members  of 
the  legislature,  quietly  entered  the  State  House,  and  dis- 
tributing ourselves  at  points  of  vantage  and  the  exits,  we 
allowed  no  one  to  leave  the  building.  There  were  quite  a 
number  of  young  negroes  —  "Tacheeses"  (attaches)  as  they 
called  themselves  —  in  the  building,  but  none  of  the  higher  of- 
ficials were  there.  As  there  were  no  telephones  in  those  days, 
and  as  we  would  not  let  anybody  leave,  there  was  no  way  for 
them  to  get  word  to  their  friends  that  we  were  in  possession. 
Everything  with  us  seemed  to  be  plain  sailing,  and  expect- 
ing to  be  complimented  on  our  enterprise  we  sent  word  to 
General  Hampton  that  we  had  the  State  House  and  would 
hold  it  until  the  Democratic  legislature  assembled  therein. 
But  our  leaders  wanted  above  everything  to  avoid  a  clash 
with  the  United  States  Government,  and  knowing  that  the 
United  States  troops  would  be  called  upon  to  eject  us, 
General  Hampton  sent  back  word  for  us  to  withdraw  from 
the  capitol  at  once  —  which  we  did. 

I  think  that  it  was  two  days  after  the  foregoing  episode 
that  the  Democratic  legislators  met  at  the  court-house  and 
decided  to  go  to  the  capitol  and  take  their  seats,  as  by  right, 
in  the  legislative  halls.  Led  by  General  Wallace,  their 
speaker,  they  marched  to  the  State  House  followed  by  a 
number  of  men  bent  upon  assisting  them  if  they  met  with 
any  opposition.  Arriving  at  the  State  House  they  thrust 
aside  the  sergeants-at-arms  and  doorkeepers,  and  took  their 
seats  in  their  respective  halls.  It  was  before  the  usual  hour 
for  the  Republican  legislature  to  meet,  and  the  chambers 
were  empty,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  negro  employees. 
I  entered  the  House  of  Representatives  with  the  members 
of  that  body.  General  Wallace  took  the  speaker's  chair  and 
called  the  House  to  order,  and  was  proceeding  with  the 
business  of  the  day,  when  the  Republican  members  arrived 


366   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

in  a  great  state  of  excitement,  palpably  chagrined  at  finding 
themselves  outwitted.  The  Democrats  had  occupied  all  the 
seats  on  the  right  of  the  speaker,  and  only  the  vacant  chairs 
on  his  left  were  empty,  so  our  former  masters  had  to  be  con- 
tent with  those.  Mackey,  the  speaker  of  the  Republican 
House,  had  an  ordinary  chair  brought  and  placed  along- 
side of  the  regular  speaker's  seat  now  occupied  by  General 
Wallace.  Neither  speaker  recognized  the  other,  nor  did  they 
interchange  a  single  word  during  the  whole  time  the  dual 
legislature  was  in  session.  Whenever  a  Democratic  member 
arose  to  address  the  House,  a  carpetbagger  or  negro  would 
also  get  on  his  feet.  General  Wallace  would  recognize  the 
Democrat,  and  Mackey  would  do  the  same  for  the  Repub- 
lican, and  then  both  members  would  begin  to  speak  at 
once,  each  pretending  to  be  absolutely  oblivious  of  the 
other's  presence.  But  now  and  then  curiosity  would  get 
the  better  of  the  Republicans  and  their  spokesman  would 
stop  to  listen  to  what  the  other  orator  was  saying,  and  as 
the  other  orator  was  engaged  in  a  denunciation  of  their  ras- 
calities, it  could  not  have  afforded  them  much  satisfaction. 

At  times  it  looked  as  though  it  would  be  impossible  to 
avoid  a  hostile  collision  between  the  two  bodies  despite  the 
fact  that  the  carpetbaggers  were  frightened,  knowing,  as 
they  did,  that  the  first  shot  would  be  the  signal  for  their  an- 
nihilation. They  had  become  desperate,  and  the  scathing 
denunciations  which  they  had  to  listen  to  penetrated  through 
even  their  dulled  sensibilities. 

No  one,  singly,  dared  to  leave  the  chamber  for  fear  they 
would  be  unable  to  return,  but  the  citizens  generously 
smuggled  in  baskets  of  food  for  their  representatives,  so 
they  did  not  suffer  from  hunger. 

Hour  after  hour  passed ,  during  which  many  exciting  scenes 
took  place;  —  night  came,  the  hall  was  lighted,  and  still 
the  pandemonium  reigned.  About  ten  o'clock,  Hamilton,  a 
black  and  very  intelligent  negro  member  who  had  accumu- 
lated quite  a  handsome  fortune  as  a  planter  of  cotton,  and 


A  Stormy  Session  367 

who  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  honest  politician 
among  that  nefarious  gang,  came  to  me  and  said,  if  I  would 
stand  by  him,  that  he  would  make  a  speech  and  expose  the 
rascalities  of  the  carpetbaggers.  Of  course,  before  commit- 
ting myself  I  consulted  some  of  the  leaders,  who  approved, 
and  Speaker  Wallace  was  informed  as  to  what  was  about  to 
take  place.  I  was  surprised  to  find,  on  inquiry,  that  Hamil- 
ton was  not  armed,  and  taking  him  out  into  a  committee 
room  I  gave  him  my  revolver.  I  followed  him  back  into 
the  chamber  and  stood  behind  his  chair.  Hamilton  at  last 
caught  the  eye  of  Speaker  Mackey  and  to  the  amazement  of 
the  Republicans  and  most  of  the  Democrats  also,  Speaker 
Wallace,  in  a  loud  voice,  also  recognized  the  Republican 
member. 

Hamilton  was  in  earnest  —  he  was  tired  of  the  uncertain- 
ties of  life  and  property  in  which  he  lived.  He  also  had  the 
foresight  to  see  that  the  end  of  carpetbag  rule  had  come,  and 
had  determined  to  cast  his  lot  with  his  former  friends,  the 
ex-slave-owners.  He  had  a  fine  command  of  the  English 
language,  having  traveled  considerably  with  his  master  as 
a  valet  when  a  slave.  He  not  only  named  the  crimes  which 
had  been  committed  against  the  people  of  the  State,  but 
also  named  the  time,  place,  and  the  men  who  had  per- 
petrated them.  This  was  too  much  for  the  carpetbag  and 
negro  members;  they  raged  and  stormed  at  first,  and 
finally,  urged  on  by  the  carpetbaggers,  a  dozen  or  more 
negroes  started  for  Hamilton,  who  drew  his  pistol  and 
leveled  it  at  them.  I  warned  him  not  to  shoot  until  some  one 
touched  him,  and  at  that  moment  a  friend  of  mine  took  up 
a  position  behind  me,  and  knowing  that  I  was  not  armed 
pushed  a  pistol  into  my  hand.  The  negroes  hesitated  and 
stopped,  and  Hamilton,  laying  his  revolver  on  his  desk, 
remarked  that  he  would  kill  the  first  man  who  laid  a  finger 
on  him.  By  this  time  the  chamber  was  in  an  uproar.  The 
negroes  and  their  white  confreres  were  engaged  in  reviling 
Hamilton,  while  the  Southerners  were  urging  him  to  go  on. 


368        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Hamilton  proceeded  with  his  speech,  and  never  did  I  hear, 
even  from  the  mouth  of  General  M.  C.  Butler,  such  a  scath- 
ing denunciation  of  the  carpetbaggers. 

When  Hamilton  had  finished  his  remarks  to  the  House, 
he  turned  to  me  and  said  that  "now  his  life  was  not  worth 
the  price  of  a  puff  of  smoke,"  as  the  negroes  would  surely 
kill  him  before  he  could  get  out  of  the  city.  I  reassured  him 
by  telling  him  that  I  was  going  to  stay  by  him  until  he  was 
out  of  danger. 

We  left  the  House  of  Representatives  together  and  were 
not  followed.  I  took  Hamilton  to  the  home  of  Mr.  Douglas 
De  Saussure,  a  prominent  lawyer,  and  he  was  kept  there 
until  he  could  catch  a  train  bound  for  his  home. 

Returning  to  the  House  of  Representatives  I  found  my 
way  barred  by  General  Dennis,  the  carpetbagger  who  had 
robbed  me  of  my  hay  crop  and  mill  dam,  and  half  a  dozen 
so-called  "Tacheeses."  I  roughly  pushed  Dennis  aside  and 
walking  through  the  gang  of  young  negroes  entered  the 
chamber.  It  was  now  after  midnight  and  the  House  was  in 
as  great  disorder  as  when  I  had  left  it.  A  number  of  negro 
members  were  gathered  together  near  the  speaker's  desk, 
and  there  was  some  anxiety  expressed  for  the  safety  of  Gen- 
eral Wallace.  One  of  our  leaders  asked  me  to  take  up  a 
position  behind  the  chair  of  General  Wallace.  To  this 
Speaker  Mackey  objected,  but  on  my  informing  him  very 
impolitely  that  there  was  no  one  man  enough  to  remove  me, 
he  paid  no  more  attention  to  me. 

Urged  on  by  the  carpetbaggers,  the  negroes  made  a 
demonstration  as  though  they  wanted  to  remove  Speaker 
Wallace  from  the  chair  by  force,  but  they  changed  their 
minds  when  they  saw  how  quickly  the  whites  rushed  in  be- 
tween them  and  the  speaker.  They  wavered  for  a  moment 
and  then  returned  to  their  seats. 

By  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  speaking  had  ceased 
and  every  one  seemed  weary  of  the  excitement.  There  was 
absolute  silence  for  a  little  while,  and  then  the  whites  were 


The  "Wallace  House"  Evicted  369 

aroused  by  a  burst  of  melody  which  came  from  the  throats 
of  the  plantation  darkies  who  had,  in  such  a  marvelous 
manner,  been  transformed  into  statesmen. 

With  the  morning  came  the  military,  who  had  received 
orders  from  Washington  to  evict  from  the  State  House  the 
so-called  "Wallace  House."  The  Democrats  after  a  protest 
marched  out  of  the  building  in  the  same  order  that  they  had 
marched  into  it. 

As  a  matter  of  personal  interest  I  might  add  that  my 
daughter  Helen  afterwards  married  the  only  son  of  General 
Wallace. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

General  M.  C.  Butler  elected  U.S.  Senator  by  Democratic  legislature  — 
Carpetbag  conspiracy  against  Butler  proves  a  fiasco  —  Don  Cameron,  to  the 
amazement  of  the  country,  forces  the  seating  of  Butler  in  the  U.S.  Senate  — 
Senator  Blaine  traps  Senator  Vance  who  was  fond  of  practical  jokes  —  Aston- 
ishing clash  between  Senators  Bayard  and  Blaine — Visit  of  a  Senate  Com- 
mittee to  the  Indian  Territory  —  Attempt  to  give  a  scolding  to  Chief  Joseph, 
of  the  Nez  Perces  Indians,  and  the  result  —  The  mountain  would  not 
come  to  Mohammed,  so  Mohammed  had  to  go  to  the  mountain  —  Joseph 
turns  the  tables  on  the  Senators  and  administers  a  stinging  tongue-lashing 
—  We  leave  Joseph,  but  do  not  feel  very  proud  of  ourselves. 

Political  events  both  national  and  state  in  1875-76  were 
full  of  thrills.  Hayes  and  Tilden  each  claimed  to  have  been 
elected  to  the  Presidency,  and  Chamberlain  and  Hampton 
each  claimed  to  have  been  legally  elected  as  Governor  of 
South  Carolina.  Tilden  was  counted  out  and  Hampton  was 
counted  in.  How  the  electoral  vote  of  South  Carolina  could 
have  been  given  to  Hayes,  and  Hampton  at  the  same  time 
declared  to  have  been  elected  governor,  is,  as  the  late 
Lord  Dundreary  would  have  said,  "One  of  those  things  no 
fellow  could  understand,"  as,  while  negro  women  and  boys 
under  age  may  have  voted,  and  there  might  have  been  sev- 
eral tissue  ballots  found  in  the  boxes,  still,  it  was  a  well- 
known  fact  that  neither  whites  nor  blacks  ever  voted  a  split 
ticket  in  South  Carolina. 

South  Carolina  was  in  deadly  earnest  in  her  determina- 
tion never  again  to  submit  to  carpetbagger  and  negro  rule. 
The  authorities  in  Washington  realized  that  the  criminal 
orgy,  miscalled  government,  of  these  wretches  had  come  to 
an  end,  and  that  the  only  result  of  keeping  them  in  power 
by  the  use  of  bayonets  would  be  to  cause  the  slaughter  of 
numbers  of  ignorant,  misled  negroes. 

Having  nothing  to  do  I  accepted  several  invitations  from 
Northern  friends  (strange  to  say  they  were  all  Republicans 
in  politics)  and  went  with  one  of  them  on  a  yachting  cruise 


Butler's  Election  to  the  Senate        371 

along  the  New  England  coast,  stopping  at  Bath,  Maine, 
among  other  ports,  where  my  host  begged  me  not  to  let  it  be 
known  that  I  had  once  been  a  pirate  and  had  participated 
in  the  capture  of  several  vessels  belonging  to  that  once  pros- 
perous shipowning  town. 

After  the  yachting  cruise  I  paid  a  number  of  visits  to 
friends  and  was  having  a  delightful  time  at  the  beautiful 
country  seat  of  General  E.  Burd  Grubb,  near  Burlington, 
New  Jersey,  when  I  received  a  letter  telling  me  that  a  trust 
estate,  my  last  and  sole  source  of  income,  had  forever  disap- 
peared. By  my  authority  my  trustee  had  lent  the  money, 
for  which  he  was  seeking  an  investment,  to  a  friend  of  mine 
who  was  in  business.  Knowing  our  personal  relations,  the 
trustee  let  him  have  the  money  on  his  assurance  that  he 
would  at  once  send  back  the  collateral  securities,  but  my 
friend  failed  before  he  did  so.  On  learning  of  my  total  finan- 
cial ruin  I  at  once  went  to  Washington  to  the  house  of  my 
brother-in-law,  General  R.  C.  Drum,  adjutant-general  of 
the  United  States  Army  at  that  time,  and  I  was  still  there 
when  the  United  States  Senate  met  to  hold  probably  the 
most  exciting  session  in  its  history. 

The  Democratic  legislature  had  kept  up  its  organization 
despite  the  fact  that  the  military  would  not  allow  them 
to  enter  the  State  House,  and  they  had  elected  General 
M.  C.  Butler,  a  nephew  of  Commodore  Perry,  to  the  United 
States  Senate.  Corbin,  a  carpetbagger,  was  elected  to  the 
same  seat  by  the  Republican  legislature.  As  the  United 
States  Senate  at  the  time  was  Republican  by  a  majority  of 
one,  Butler's  election  was  generally  regarded,  by  everybody 
except  Butler,  as  an  empty  compliment. 

The  carpetbaggers  had  fled  from  the  South  and  were 
gathered  in  great  numbers  in  Washington,  posing  in  the 
role  of  political  "lame  ducks"  and  demanding  that  the 
Republican  Administration  should  take  care  of  them. 

The  Senate  was  Republican  by  a  majority  of  one,  and  no 
one,  with  the  exception  of  General  Butler,  dreamed  that  it 


372        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

would  be  possible  for  him  to  obtain  the  seat  under  the  cir- 
cumstances. But  the  carpetbaggers  were  not  satisfied  with 
this  apparent  certainty.  They  wanted  revenge,  and  to  ob- 
tain it  they  formed  a  conspiracy  for  the  purpose  of  so  be- 
smirching Butler  that  he  would  never  be  able  to  appear  in 
national  politics  again. 

One  day  General  Butler  sent  for  me  and  told  me  of  the 
conspiracy  and  how  one  of  the  carpetbaggers  had  gone  on  a 
spree  and  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag,  by  mistake,  to  a  North- 
ern Democrat  under  the  impression  that  he  was  a  carpet- 
bagger from  some  other  State  than  South  Carolina.  The 
simple  scheme  was  to  have  a  woman  of  the  demi-monde 
visit  the  general's  apartment  at  an  hour  when  it  was  known 
that  he  was  usually  alone,  and  the  conspirators  were  to  fol- 
low her  into  the  rooms.  It  was  a  plan  that  required  more 
courage  than  I  had  ever  given  the  carpetbaggers  the  credit 
of  possessing.  The  general  requested  me  to  remain  with  him 
until  the  denouement. 

As  the  probable  time  for  the  visit  approached,  General 
Butler  went  into  his  bedroom  and  I  remained  in  the  sitting- 
room.  The  apartment  was  situated  on  the  ground  floor  in  a 
house  on  "F"  Street,  between  Thirteenth  and  Fourteenth 
Streets.  His  rooms  were  separated  by  folding  doors.  We  had 
not  long  to  wait  before  a  heavily  veiled  woman,  without 
asking  for  General  Butler,  or  knocking  at  the  sitting-room 
door,  boldly  entered  and  seemed  considerably  excited  when 
she  discovered  me  alone  in  the  room.  Before  I  could  ask  her 
business  she  demanded  to  know  where  General  Butler  was. 
I  frankly  told  her  that  the  general  knew  all  about  the  con- 
spiracy, and  that  if  she  would  take  a  seat  she  would  prob- 
ably see  some  fun  when  her  friends  arrived.  The  woman  be- 
came greatly  agitated  and  started  for  the  front  door,  but  I 
had  no  idea  of  letting  her  meet  the  conspirators,  and  sug- 
gested to  her  that  in  going  out  that  way  she  might  fall  into 
the  hands  of  the  police,  and  that  as  I  did  not  want  a  scandal 
I  would  gladly  show  her  out  the  back  way  where  she  could 


Conspiracy  against  Butler  373 

escape  into  an  alleyway  and  from  thence  to  a  side  street. 
She  accepted  my  offer  with  enthusiasm  and  made  a  hasty 
exit. 

When  I  returned  to  the  apartment  General  Butler  and  I 
changed  places  and  he  seated  himself  in  the  parlor  while  I 
went  into  the  bedroom  and  closed  the  doors.  The  cicatrix  of 
the  stump  of  the  General's  amputated  leg  had  been  paining 
him  and  he  was  using  his  crutches  that  day.  We  had  not 
long  to  wait.  The  door  leading  to  the  street  and  the  one 
between  the  hall  and  his  sitting-room  had  been  left  pur- 
posely ajar,  and  a  few  moments  after  the  departure  of  the 
mysterious  lady  five  carpetbaggers  burst  unceremoniously 
into  the  room.  General  Butler  arose  and  demanded  to  know 
what  they  meant  by  the  intrusion,  but  they  were  all  so 
hilarious  that  they  took  no  notice  of  his  indignation,  and 
two  of  them  suddenly  threw  open  the  doors  of  the  bedroom 
and  to  their  surprise  did  not  find  the  lady,  but  beheld  me 
reclining  on  a  couch.  I  leaped  to  my  feet  and  seizing  a 
chair  for  a  weapon  began  to  brandish  it,  at  the  same  time, 
I  fear,  using  some  very  violent  language.  General  Butler 
was  hopping  about  on  one  crutch  while  making  most  men- 
acing flourishes  in  the  air  with  the  other.  The  general  was 
the  possessor  of  a  most  highly  sulphurated  vocabulary  when 
his  angry  passions  were  aroused,  and  he  was  using  it  with 
unstinted  prodigality.  The  scoundrels  did  not  stand  on 
the  order  of  their  going,  but  struggled  among  themselves 
for  the  honor  of  being  first  to  reach  the  street  —  and  thus 
ended  the  adventure  with  the  veiled  lady. 

I  was  in  the  gallery  of  the  Senate  when  the  contested  seat 
in  that  body  between  Corbin,  the  carpetbagger,  and  Butler, 
the  Confederate  brigadier,  came  up  for  decision.  It  was  a 
very  exciting  session.  Conkling  and  Blaine  for  once  were 
in  accord,  and  they  were  merciless  in  their  denunciations 
of  Butler.  Butler,  of  course,  could  not  talk  back,  as  he  was 
not  yet  a  Senator.  Conkling  described  the  Chesterfieldian 
Butler  as  a  "swashbuckler,"  and  Blaine  accused  him  of 


374   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

being  "a  murderer  whose  hands  were  dripping  with  the 
blood  of  innocent  negroes  massacred  at  Hamburg."  I  was 
surprised  at  Butler's  seeming  indifference  to  the  attack  until 
he  afterwards  told  me  that  he  was  not  at  Hamburg  when  the 
shooting  took  place,  but  that  he  was  near  there  —  in  fact,  his 
home  was  not  twenty  miles  away  from  the  scene.  The  truth 
of  the  matter  was  that,  urged  on  by  their  white  leaders,  the 
negroes  in  Hamburg  had  started  a  riot,  and  an  Edgefield 
rifle  club  had  hastily  assembled  and  suppressed  them,  and 
in  the  process  had  killed  a  few  of  the  most  violent.  It  was 
singular  that  no  carpetbaggers  were  ever  killed  in  those 
collisions. 

When  the  vote  as  to  whether  Butler  or  Corbin  should  be 
declared  the  duly  elected  Senator  from  South  Carolina  was 
taken,  no  one  seemed  particularly  interested,  as  it  was  taken 
for  granted  that  the  Republican  majority  of  one  would  seat 
Corbin,  but  great  was  the  amazement  when  Don  Cameron, 
the  autocrat  of  the  Pennsylvania  Republican  machine,  an- 
nounced that  he  voted  for  Butler.  The  excitement  caused 
by  this  vote  was  nothing,  however,  in  comparison  to  the 
pandemonium  which  reigned  in  that  dignified  body  when 
Patterson,  the  carpetbag  Senator  from  South  Carolina,  a 
man  I  had  frequently  heard  Butler  denounce  at  public 
meetings  as  everything  that  was  dishonest  and  despicable, 
followed  the  lead  of  Cameron  and  voted  also  to  seat  But- 
ler! Patterson  was  a  Pennsylvanian,  and  a  henchman  of 
the  Camerons.  The  carpetbag  days  in  South  Carolina  were 
over  forever,  and  he  well  knew  that  ruin  stared  him  in  the 
face  at  home  if  he  dared  vote  contrary  to  the  wishes  of 
Cameron. 

Butler  was  seated  and  given  the  chairmanship  of  the 
Civil  Service  Committee,  a  sinecure,  as  that  committee  had 
nothing  to  do  in  those  days,  and  was  one  of  the  least  impor- 
tant committees,  whose  chairmanship  was  usually  given  to 
a  member  of  the  minority.  His  only  patronage  was  the 
appointment  of  a  messenger  at  a  salary  of  fifteen  hundred 


Memorable  Senatorial  Clashes  375 

dollars  a  year,  and  this  position  he  gave  to  me  —  and  I 
surely  did  need  the  money  at  that  time. 

I  was  in  the  Senate  Chamber  on  that  memorable  night 
when  Senators  Conkling  and  Lamar  had  their  famous  clash, 
and  on  another  occasion  I  was  a  witness  of  that  extraordi- 
nary sight  when  Senator  Blaine,  like  a  caged  lion,  walked 
back  and  forth  in  front  of  the  Democratic  desks  behind 
which  were  seated  a  number  of  ex-Confederate  brigadiers. 
He  would  stop  first  in  front  of  one  of  them  and  denounce 
his  political  methods,  and  then  pass  on  to  the  next,  but  al- 
ways skipped  Senator  Bayard,  of  Delaware,  who  was  seated 
alongside  of  the  one-legged  General  Hampton,  and  also 
ignored  Senator  Voorhees,  of  Indiana.  At  the  end  of  the 
row  was  seated  Senator  Zebulon  B.  Vance,  of  North  Caro- 
lina, an  inveterate  joker.  When  Blaine  would  reach  Vance's 
seat  he  would  look  at  him  for  a  moment  and  then  give  a 
little  start  as  though  very  much  surprised,  then  retrace  his 
steps  and  take  up  a  position  in  front  of  some  other  Demo- 
cratic Senator  on  whom  he  would  pour  out  his  wrath.  This 
performance,  repeated  several  times,  made,  as  I  have  no 
doubt  it  was  intended  to  make,  Bayard,  Voorhees,  and  Vance 
conspicuous  because  he  excepted  them  from  his  general 
denunciations  so  freely  lavished  on  their  Democratic  con- 
freres. First  Bayard  and  then  Voorhees  asked  permission  to 
interrupt  him,  but  curtly  refusing  the  former's  request,  he 
told  the  latter  that  he  would  not  give  up  the  floor  for  an 
instant  to  a  man  who  in  the  Civil  War  had  been  neither 
"fish,  flesh,  fowl,  nor  good  red  herring."  Vance  seemingly 
flushed  with  anger  at  being  excepted  from  the  attacks,  with- 
out asking  permission  to  interrupt  challenged  Blaine  "to 
show  that  he  had  ever  made  a  disloyal  remark  since  the  sur- 
render at  Appomattox."  Blaine  called  the  attention  of  the 
presiding  officer  and  the  Senate  to  the  fact  that  he  had  care- 
fully avoided  making  any  attack  on  the  Senator  from  North 
Carolina,  but  added  that  he  usually  had  on  his  desk  some 
ammunition,  useful  in  such  contingencies,  and  he  strode  to 


376   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

it  pretending  that  he  was  looking  for  something  important 
among  the  mass  of  documents  strewed  thereon.  Seemingly 
failing  in  his  search,  he  gave  a  sigh.  The  Democratic  side  of 
the  chamber  laughed  with  glee  at  his  supposed  discomfiture, 
but  when  the  merriment  ceased  Mr.  Blaine  said  that  he 
sometimes  had  something  under  his  desk,  and  stooping  down 
he  produced  a  schoolbook  of  orations  published  for  the  use  of 
the  public  schools  of  North  Carolina.  This  book  he  told  the 
Senate  was  issued  to  the  schools  when  Zebulon  B.  Vance  was 
governor  and  also,  ex-officio,  a  member  of  the  public  school 
board,  and  this  was  the  kind  of  oratory  and  loyalty  being 
taught  the  youth  of  the  State.  He  then  opened  the  book  at 
a  marked  page  and  read  a  selection  from  one  of  Vance's 
orations  which  proved  to  be  a  red-hot  "secesh"  speech,  all 
about  "when  the  South,  like  a  phoenix,  would  arise  from  its 
ashes  and  cast  out  the  Northern  vandal,"  etc.,  etc.  The 
Senate  lost  its  dignity  and  indulged  in  roars  of  laughter  in 
which  Senator  Vance  hilariously  joined.  He  saw  the  trap 
Mr.  Blaine  had  set  for  him  and  appreciated  the  dexterity 
with  which  it  had  been  sprung. 

After  the  merriment  had  somewhat  subsided,  Mr.  Blaine 
stopped  in  front  of  Senator  Bayard's  desk.  His  hands  were 
in  his  trousers  pockets  and  his  whole  attitude,  I  must  say, 
was  offensive,  and  doubtless  was  meant  to  be  so.  General 
Wade  Hampton  occupied  the  next  seat  to  Mr.  Bayard  and 
Mr.  Blaine  commenced  to  berate  the  general  as  though  he 
was  responsible  for  all  the  sins  of  the  South  since  the  com- 
mencement of  the  Civil  War.  General  Hampton,  in  a  most 
dignified  manner,  remained  perfectly  quiet  during  the  verbal 
attack,  but  suddenly,  without  even  asking  the  President 
pro  tern's  permission  to  interrupt  the  speaker,  Mr.  Bayard 
exclaimed,  while  shaking  his  finger  at  Mr.  Blaine,  "You 
shall  not  stand  in  front  of  my  desk  in  that  insolent  attitude 
with  your  hands  in  your  pockets ! "  Mr.  Blaine  glared  at  him 
for  a  moment  and  then  said  that  he  would  stand  in  any  place 
in  the  Senate  Chamber  that  he  chose,  and  he  certainly 


Blaine  and  Bayard  377 

would  keep  his  hands  in  his  pockets  as  long  as  it  pleased  him 
to  do  so.  Mr.  Bayard  lost  his  temper,  and  jumping  to  his  feet 
exclaimed,  "You  may  talk  that  way  here,  but  at  another 
time  and  place — "  He  got  no  farther,  for  Mr.  Blaine  fairly 
roared,  "Stop!"  And  then  in  a  lower  tone  of  voice,  while 
pointing  to  General  Hampton,  he  said,  "If  that  threat  had 
come  from  that  one-legged  man,  it  might  mean  something, 
but  from  you  —  p'st!"  he  hissed,  and  at  the  same  time 
snapped  his  fingers  in  a  most  offensive  manner. 

When  Mr.  Blaine  had  finished  his  tirade  against  the 
"Confederate  brigadiers,"  he  took  his  seat.  Mr.  Bayard, 
showing  great  emotion,  instantly  arose,  and  addressing 
the  presiding  officer  said  that  "if  in  the  heat  of  debate 
he  had  said  anything  to  offend  the  Senator  from  Maine  he 
wished  to  withdraw  the  remark!"  The  Senators  and  the 
crowds  in  the  galleries  fairly  gasped  in  astonishment,  for 
surely,  if  an  apology  was  in  order,  it  was  not  due  from 
Mr.  Bayard. 

As  I  watched  this  unpleasant  scene  little  did  I  dream  that 
it  was  destined  at  a  future  day  to  give  me  what  the  French 
call  a  "mauvais  quart  d'heure"  —  but  it  did. 

The  marvelous  Hayes-Tilden-Hampton-Chamberlain  de- 
cision had  given  South  Carolina  control  of  her  own  politi- 
cal affairs,  but  not  the  control  of  her  judiciary,  as  carpetbag 
judges  still  presided  over  her  courts,  and  the  warfare  between 
the  carpetbaggers  and  the  natives  still  continued  before  the 
courts.  Corbin,  the  disappointed  contestant  for  a  seat  in 
the  United  States  Senate,  was  the  United  States  district 
attorney,  and  naturally  thirsted  for  revenge  and  sought  to 
use  the  United  States  District  Court  to  attain  his  ends.  He 
hated  Dawson,  the  editor  of  the  "Charleston  News  and 
Courier,"  even  more  than  he  did  Butler.  Colonel  Simonton, 
an  ex-Confederate  officer,  and  a  brilliant  lawyer,  was  in- 
formed that  Corbin  was  about  to  proceed  against  Dawson, 
and  a  number  of  other  prominent  Democrats,  in  the  United 


378   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

States  Court,  charging  them  with  instigating  or  participat- 
ing in  violations  of  the  United  States  laws  governing  presi- 
dential or  national  elections.  On  the  other  hand,  United 
States  Senator  Patterson,  the  South  Carolina  carpetbagger, 
and  Cardozo,  a  highly  educated  carpetbag  negro  who  had 
been  superintendent  of  public  education,  and  many  other 
ex-officials  of  the  looted  States,  had  been  indicted  before 
the  state  courts,  and  it  was  well  known  that  the  judges 
thereof  were  anxious  to  make  their  peace  with  the  native 
whites. 

The  following  letter  from  Senator  M.  C.  Butler  will  give 
an  idea  as  to  how  things  were  managed  in  those  days :  — 

Edgefield,  S.C.,  Sept.  12,  1879. 

Col.  J.  M.  Morgan, 

Washington,  D.C. 
Dear  Morgan:  — 

Colonel  Simonton  writes  to-day  that  Corbin  is  in  Charleston 
preparing  to  renew  the  election  prosecutions  in  Charleston  in 
November,  in  the  United  States  Court,  and  suggests  that  the 
prosecutions  in  the  State  Courts  be  pressed  at  the  next  term  of 
the  Court  in  Columbia  —  third  Monday  in  next  month  —  before 
[Judge]  Mackey. 

I  would  be  obliged  if  you  would  see  Patterson  and  Cardozo  in 
person  and  say  that  you  have  this  information  from  reliable 
sources,  and  that  unless  Corbin  is  stopped  there  will  be  no  possible 
chance  to  control  the  prosecutions  in  Columbia.  Chamberlain 
will  be  moved  upon  also,  as  the  truce  will  be  at  an  end. 

The  repeal  of  "test  oath"  and  amendment  to  the  jury  law  will 
protect  our  people  —  but  we  do  not  want  this  question  reopened, 
and  it  will  not  be,  unless  the  Radicals  make  the  first  move. 

I  am  sorry  that  Dawson  is  not  here,  as  Corbin  will  have  espe- 
cial delight  in  annoying  him,  if  he  can. 

Mention  no  names  in  your  conferences,  and  be  good  enough  to 
let  me  hear  from  you.    I  will  see  Youmans  next  week. 

Very  truly  yours, 

M.  C.  Butler. 

I  had  a  talk  with  Patterson  and  Cardozo,  and  there  were 
no  more  prosecutions. 


Chief  Joseph  and  a  Senate  Committee    379 

It  must  have  been  a  mighty  poor  Senator  who  in  those 
days  could  not  (at  the  expense  of  the  Government)  get  up, 
under  the  guise  of  an  "investigation,"  a  " junket"  to  some 
part  of  the  country  he  wished  to  see  during  the  summer 
vacations. 

It  was  my  good  fortune  to  accompany  one  of  these  luxuri- 
ous pleasure  parties  to  the  Indian  Territory.  The  object  of 
our  jaunt  was  supposed  to  be  for  the  purpose  of  looking  into 
the  condition  of  the  Nez  Perces  Indians  who  were  interned 
there  and  who  were  becoming  restless.  It  was  thought  it 
would  be  well  to  give  their  chief,  Joseph,  a  good  scolding, 
and  the  result  of  their  well-meant  efforts  was  that  Joseph 
gave  the  Senators  a  tongue-lashing  the  like  of  which  United 
States  Senators  have  rarely  been  subjected  to.  Joseph  fairly 
excoriated  them,  and  worse  than  that,  he  was  in  the  right. 

Our  accommodations  for  the  journey  from  Washington 
consisted  of  a  splendid  Pullman  sleeping-car  (special)  and 
a  luxurious  dining-car,  and  most  sumptuously  did  we  fare 
on  the  best  of  everything  there  was  to  eat.  Champagne  was 
served  even  at  breakfast  as  well  as  at  other  meals,  and  was 
also  at  the  service  of  any  one  who  wanted  it  between  meals. 
There  were  only  four  Senators,  but  including  ladies,  men 
guests,  and  Senate  attaches  our  company  numbered  some 
thirty  people. 

Joseph's  camp  with  its  brown  tepees  was  very  pictu- 
resque. Seats  for  the  Senators  had  been  placed  in  a  grove  of 
oaks.  The  rest  of  us  stood  behind  the  chairs  of  the  Solons, 
and,  we  flattered  ourselves,  made  a  very  dignified  and  im- 
posing picture,  shaded  as  we  were  by  magnificent  trees, 
amongst  which  were  the  wigwams  of  the  Indians,  and  be- 
tween the  trees  a  glimpse  of  the  almost  limitless  prairie 
could  be  had. 

At  the  foot  of  a  gigantic  tree,  leaning  with  his  back  against 
it,  sat  Chief  Joseph  with  his  braves  seated  in  a  semicircle 
around  him.  They  were  at  least  a  hundred  and  fifty  yards 
from  where  the  Senators  had  taken  up  their  position.  When 


380        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

all  was  ready  for  the  "pow-wow,"  the  chairman  of  the  com- 
mittee sent  the  assistant  sergeant-at-arms,  with  me  as  his 
aide-de-camp (?),  to  give  Joseph  permission  to  approach  the 
august  presence  and  receive  a  scolding.  We  walked  up  to 
the  silent  chief,  who  neither  rose  nor  deigned  to  look  at 
us.  Christy,  the  assistant  sergeant-at-arms,  gave  him  the 
message  through  an  Indian  interpreter.  Joseph's  reply  was 
that  he  had  not  sent  for  the  Senators,  nor  did  he  care  par- 
ticularly to  talk  to  them,  but  if  they  had  anything  to  say  to 
him  they  could  come  over  to  where  he  was  seated  and  say 
it.  The  programme  had  been  that  Joseph  was  to  stand  in 
front  of  the  seated  Senators  while  they  read  the  "riot  act" 
to  him,  but  the  wily  savage  had  no  intention  of  occupying 
any  such  undignified  position.  He  refused  to  budge.  As 
the  mountain  would  not  come  to  Mohammed,  the  Senators 
were  compelled  to  go  to  Joseph,  or  else  give  up  the  confer- 
ence. They  decided  to  go  —  and  soon  found  themselves 
standing  in  the  presence  of  the  seated  savage  monarch. 

Patterson,  the  carpetbag  Senator  from  South  Carolina, 
was  the  chairman.  He  was  not  an  impressive  speaker,  and 
used  many  awkward  gestures,  sawing  the  air  with  his  arms 
when  orating.  He  was  also  very  vehement  in  his  style,  and 
plunged  right  into  his  subject,  scolding  Joseph  for  his  sins  of 
commission  and  omission.  When  he  got  through  two  more 
Senators  took  an  oratorical  fling  at  "Lo  the  poor  Indian." 
All  this  time  Joseph  and  his  braves  sat  wrapped  in  their 
blankets  —  and  silence.  When  the  Senators  had  finished 
their  tirades,  Joseph,  a  magnificent  specimen  of  the  red  man, 
standing,  as  he  did,  over  six  feet  high  in  his  moccasins,  slowly 
arose,  and  as  he  did  so  his  blanket  gradually  slipped  from 
his  shoulders  to  the  ground  leaving  him  clothed  only  in  the 
eagle  feathers  of  his  headdress  and  a  breech-clout.  The 
first  words  he  uttered  were  to  ask  the  Senators  if  they  had 
finished,  and  on  being  assured  that  they  had,  he  began  an 
oration,  which,  although  it  had  to  be  translated  by  an  inter- 
preter, for  eloquence  and  pathos  I  have  rarely,  if  ever,  heard 


Chief  Joseph  as  an  Orator  381 

equaled.  He  described  how  his  tribe  had  dwelt  on  their 
lands,  which  the  Great  Spirit  had  given  them,  from  time 
immemorial;  how  game  was  plentiful,  and  life  was  pleasant; 
how  they  had  been  kind  to  the  first  white  settlers  who  had 
come  to  Oregon,  and  how  when  more  came  they  had  assisted 
them;  how  when  the  whites  had  become  more  numerous 
they  had  fenced  in  the  land  for  their  cattle,  spoiling  the 
hunting;  and  finally  how  the  whites  had  ordered  his  people 
to  "get  out" !  He  told  how  when  a  little  boy  his  father  made 
him  promise  that  he  never  would  part  with  any  of  the  lands 
to  the  pale  faces,  or  any  one  else,  and  that  all  the  tales  of 
settlers  to  the  effect  that  the  Indians  had  sold  them  land 
were  false.  He  then  went  on  to  tell  the  reasons  why  he  went 
on  the  war  path.  He  described  his  pursuit  by  the  army,  and 
claimed  that  he  had  defeated  the  soldiers  in  every  engage- 
ment ;  how  in  one  battle  the  troops  had  bravely  charged  his 
rifle  pits  and  some  of  them  had  fallen  within  his  lines,  and, 
having  no  medical  facilities,  under  a  flag  of  truce  he  had 
sent  the  wounded  soldiers  to  General  Howard's  camp  to  be 
made  well.  He  called  the  attention  of  the  Senators  to  the 
fact,  which  he  said  he  could  prove  by  the  soldiers,  that 
neither  his  braves  nor  himself  had  ever  scalped  a  dead  or  a 
wounded  white  man.  He  also  asserted  that,  though  he  was 
the  victor  in  the  fighting,  under  a  flag  of  truce,  as  he  did  not 
wish  to  prolong  the  strife,  he  had  agreed  to  accompany  the 
soldiers  to  the  nearest  settlement  where  there  was  a  fort  and 
surrender  on  condition  that  he  and  his  warriors  should  be 
sent  back  to  Oregon;  that,  instead  of  keeping  faith  with 
him,  they  had  disarmed  his  braves,  and  then  had  brought 
them  to  this  unhealthy  country.  He  added  that  it  appeared 
to  him  the  whites  were  afraid  to  fight,  like  men,  in  the 
open,  and  had  sent  them  to  this  pest-hole  to  be  killed  by 
fever.  He  said  that  he  had  brought  several  hundred  braves 
to  this  place  and  asked  the  Senators  if  they  saw  them  around 
him.  Pointing  to  a  near-by  graveyard  he  answered  his 
own  question  by  saying,  "No;  they  lie  over  there,  killed  by 


382   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

your  fevers!"  He  boldly  denounced  the  Indian  agent  as  a 
dishonest  and  immoral  man,  accusing  him  of  stealing  the 
rations  and  medicines  the  Government  sent  for  his  use,  and 
called  attention  to  several  Indian  girls  who  were  gaudily 
dressed  in  the  attire  of  white  women,  with  their  necks  and 
arms  bedizened  with  pinchbeck  jewelry;  he  told  the  Sena- 
tors that  those  young  women  had  once  been  honest  squaws, 
contented  with  their  blankets,  and  intended  for  wives  for 
his  young  men,  but  with  those  trinkets  and  bright-colored 
calicos,  the  Indian  agent  and  his  white  assistants  had  led 
them  astray. 

When  Joseph  had  finished  his  arraignment  of  the  whites, 
without  saying  so  much  as  "By  your  leave,"  he  picked  up 
his  blanket,  wrapped  it  around  him,  and,  followed  by  his 
warriors,  he  was  dignity,  outraged  dignity,  personified  as  he 
walked  away  and  sought  the  seclusion  of  his  tepee. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

"Fighting  Bob"  Evans  gets  me  employment  with  Governor  Alexander  R. 
Shepherd  and  I  go  to  Mexico  —  My  brother,  P.  H.  Morgan,  is  appointed 
U.S.  Minister  to  Mexico  —  San  Antonio,  Texas,  where  we  buy  a  herd  of  un- 
broken mules — The  Canon  de  las  Iglesias — Dangers  of  the  mountain  trail — 
Batopilas — The  San  Miguel  silver  mine — Governor  Shepherd  as  an  executive 

—  A  law  unto  himself,  he  wins  the  favor  of  Porfirio  Diaz  —  In  Bonanza  — 
My  conducta  carries  a  hundred  and  forty  thousand  dollars  in  silver  bars  to 
Chihuahua  —  Instinct  of  the  mountain  mule  —  Beware  of  the  polite  Mexican 

—  Narrow  escape  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  Victoria,  the  Apache  Chief 

—  The  mountain  trail  strewn  with  silver  bars. 

During  the  whole  time  I  was  an  attache  of  the  Senate  I 
was  longing  for  some  more  suitable  position,  and  in  1880-81 
I  confided  my  wishes  to  my  old  classmate  in  my  Annapolis 
days,  Rear  Admiral  Robley  D.  Evans,  popularly  known  as 
"Fighting  Bob." 

Alexander  R.  Shepherd,  formerly  Governor  of  the  District 
of  Columbia,  was  organizing  a  mining  expedition  to  go  to 
Batopilas,  Mexico.  Admiral,  then  Captain  Evans,  recom- 
mended me  to  Governor  Shepherd  as  a  good  man  to  take 
charge  of  the  conductas,  as  the  mule  trains  carrying  bullion 
to  Mazatlan  on  the  Pacific,  on  one  side  of  the  mountains, 
and  Chihuahua,  on  the  other,  were  called. 

Before  we  started  I  learned  that  my  elder  brother,  Philip 
Hicky  Morgan,  the  United  States  Judge  of  the  International 
Court  in  Egypt,  had  been  appointed  United  States  Envoy 
Extraordinary  and  Minister  Plenipotentiary  to  Mexico. 
This  appointment  only  increased  my  desire  to  see  that  won- 
derful land,  accounts  of  which  I  had  greedily  listened  to  in 
the  days  of  my  childhood  when  the  Mexican  War  veterans 
talked  of  little  else. 

Governor  Shepherd  was  taking  his  whole  family  to 
Mexico  with  him,  and  was  also  accompanied  by  some  half- 
dozen  friends,  all  of  whom  evidently  expected  to  "get  rich 
quick."  A  large  number  of  people  were  gathered  at  the 


384    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

station  to  see  the  Governor  off  and  wish  him  bon  voyage  and 
all  manner  of  good  luck.  We  left  Washington  in  style, 
traveling  in  a  private  car  and  having  every  luxury  money 
could  buy.  Our  first  stop  was  in  St.  Louis,  Missouri,  where 
we  spent  two  or  three  very  pleasant  days  before  proceeding 
to  San  Antonio,  Texas,  where  the  Governor  bought  a  herd  of 
wild  mules,  a  number  of  wagons,  and  a  couple  of  ambulances 
for  the  convenience  of  his  family.  He  also  engaged  a  num- 
ber of  cowboys,  and  it  was  very  interesting  and  exciting 
to  watch  them  while  engaged  in  breaking  in  the  wild  mules 
who  never  before  had  known  even  the  restraining  influence 
of  a  rope. 

After  some  three  weeks  of  toilsome  travel  over  the 
desert-like  plains  we  reached  the  Rio  Grande  at  a  little 
town  called  Presidio  del  Norte,  and  after  fussing  for  two 
or  three  days  with  the  Mexican  customs  officials  we  pro- 
ceeded to  Chihuahua,  Mexico,  where  the  Governor  had  to 
sell  the  American  mules  and  buy  a  new  herd  of  mountain- 
bred  ones  to  carry  the  packs  over  the  Sierra  Madres.  We 
used  the  American  animals  to  haul  the  wagons  to  Ysabel, 
some  thirty  miles  from  Chihuahua,  a  town  without  houses 
situated  at  the  commencement  of  the  foothills  of  the  Sierra 
Madre  Mountains.  The  inhabitants  were  cave-dwellers. 
We  had  been  told  that  they  were  there,  but  on  our  arrival, 
as  we  saw  neither  houses  nor  people,  we  wondered,  and 
some  of  us  proceeded  to  investigate  the  mystery.  We 
climbed  the  rocky  hill  and  soon  located  the  holes  in  the 
side  of  it  in  which  the  Indians  lived.  I  entered  one  of  these 
caves,  which  was  about  eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  found 
a  man  and  his  wife  and  three  children.  An  old  iron  skillet, 
a  stone  on  which  they  ground  their  corn,  and  two  goats, 
comprised  their  worldly  goods.  The  Indians  apparently 
had  no  curiosity  concerning  us  and  had  not  even  taken  the 
trouble  to  look  at  our  large  cavalcade. 

At  Ysabel  the  wagons  were  unloaded  and  their  contents 
packed  on  the  backs  of  the  little  squirrel-like  mountain 


Mountain  Pack-Mules  385 

mules.  This  operation  was  very  interesting  to  watch.  A 
Mexican  would  lasso  a  mule  and  then  blindfold  him;  until 
this  was  done  no  power  on  earth  could  have  cinched  a  pack- 
saddle  on  the  animal's  back.  This  blindfold  was  shaped 
like  the  eye-shades  used  by  clerks  to  protect  their  sight 
from  the  glare  of  electric  lights.  With  the  older  mules  this 
operation  was  merely  perfunctory,  as  the  muleteers  would 
carelessly  hang  the  string  over  one  ear  and  let  the  blind- 
fold dangle  by  the  side  of  the  animal's  jaw.  Of  course  the 
mule  saw  everything  that  was  being  done  to  him,  but 
without  that  cloth  somewhere  about  his  head  it  was  at  the 
risk  of  life  that  any  one  approached  him,  and  the  Mexican, 
although  usually  brutal  in  his  methods  with  animals,  made 
that  concession  to  the  mule's  prejudices. 

As  nearly  as  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  the  packs  which 
each  mule  carried  were  made  to  weigh  three  hundred 
pounds.  As  soon  as  the  load  was  well  cinched  to  their 
backs,  the  mules  were  turned  loose,  but  made  no  attempt 
to  escape.  The  secret  of  this  was  that  the  old  white  bell 
mare  was  securely  tethered.  As  soon  as  all  was  ready  for 
the  start  the  bell  mare  was  led  to  the  trail  and  started 
upon  it,  and  the  bridleless  little  animals  fell  in  behind  her 
in  Indian  file  and  the  eight-day  mountain  journey  com- 
menced. 

We  had  not  traveled  very  far  before  we  entered  the 
Canon  de  las  Iglesias,  or  "Canon  of  the  Churches,"  where 
we  saw  one  of  the  grandest  and  most  magnificent  spec- 
tacles. The  precipitous  sides  of  the  canon  rose  to  a  height 
of  from  five  hundred  to  two  thousand  feet,  and  the  face  of 
the  rock  at  intervals  took  on  the  appearance  of  great  cathe- 
drals. No  imagination  is  required  to  discern  the  spires, 
towers,  and  minarets,  and  several  of  them  have  a  plainly 
marked  Gothic-arched  entrance  extending  for  some  feet 
back  into  the  rock.  It  seemed  hard  to  realize  that  they  were 
the  work  of  the  elements  and  not  of  some  gigantic  race  of 
men.    Some  of  these  cathedrals  of  nature  are  beautifully 


386   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

proportioned  and  deeply  impressed  the  least  imaginative 
members  of  our  party. 

The  trail  across  the  mountains  is  very  rough  and  in 
some  places  dangerous.  At  one  point  a  chasm  some  two 
hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide  is  spanned  by  a  ridge  only 
about  three  feet  wide  at  the  top.  There  are  holes  in  it  all 
the  way  across  for  the  mules  to  put  their  feet  in  to  avoid 
the  possibility  of  slipping;  there  is  a  sheer  fall  of  three  thou- 
sand feet  to  the  bottom  on  one  side  and  seven  thousand  on 
the  other.  No  one  is  allowed  to  cross  on  foot,  and  those 
who  are  susceptible  to  dizziness  have  to  be  blindfolded. 
The  scenery  along  the  trail  is  magnificent.  At  times  we 
could  look  down  and  see  the  buzzards  gracefully  circling 
above  the  clouds.  It  is  a  strange  sensation  to  see  lightning 
below  you  and  to  hear  the  rumbling  of  the  thunder  as  it 
rises  to  your  level. 

We  had  to  ford  several  mountain  streams  which,  after 
heavy  rains  or  a  cloudburst,  are  very  dangerous,  and  we 
passed  within  sight  of  a  few  Indian  villages,  perched  high 
up  on  a  mountain-side,  whose  inhabitants  fled  on  perceiv- 
ing us,  driving  their  goats  ahead  of  them,  and  soon  disap- 
pearing among  the  crags.  With  others  I  visited  one  of  these 
abandoned  villages  and  found  that  the  Indians  had  left 
behind  them  all  of  their  belongings  that  were  not  edible. 
From  time  immemorial  they  have  been  subjected  to  such 
cruelties  by  the  Mexicans  that  they  take  no  chances  of 
coming  into  contact  with  them  if  they  can  possibly 
avoid  it. 

On  our  arrival  at  the  hacienda  of  the  San  Miguel  mine, 
which  Governor  Shepherd  had  purchased  from  Mr.  Fargo, 
of  the  famous  express  company,  things  began  to  be  doing, 
and  the  native  had  his  first  experience  with  an  example  of 
the  genus  hustler. 

The  town  of  Batopilas,  situated  on  the  right  bank  of 
the  river  of  that  name,  is  about  a  mile  below  the  hacienda. 
Its  inhabitants,  with  few  exceptions,  were  miners,  who 


The  San  Miguel  Mine  387 

had  been  out  of  employment  for  a  long  time,  as  the  mining 
industry  had  been  at  a  standstill  for  several  years. 

To  reach  the  town  from  the  hacienda  it  was  necessary  to 
cross  the  river,  a  very  rapid  stream  flowing  through  the 
narrow  canon  whose  precipitous  sides  rose  to  a  height  of 
two  or  three  thousand  feet,  shutting  out  a  glimpse  of  the 
sun  from  before  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning  and  after  three 
in  the  afternoon. 

The  San  Miguel  mine  was  situated  about  half  a  mile 
above  the  hacienda.  The  tunnel  leading  into  it  was  a  little 
above  the  high-water  mark,  and  after  entering  it  we  dis- 
covered that,  contrary  to  all  of  our  preconceived  ideas, 
the  miners  mined  upward  instead  of  downward.  Out  of 
this  mine  several  millions  of  dollars  of  silver  had  in  the 
past  been  taken  out.  It  was  what  is  called  a  "pocket" 
mine,  and  marvelous  stories  were  told  by  the  natives  about 
the  great  riches  some  of  the  pockets  had  contained.  The 
roofs  of  some  of  the  ancient  pockets  were  sustained  by 
great  columns  of  rock  out  of  which  "native"  silver,  as  it  is 
called,  protruded  in  the  shape  of  nails.  The  richness  of 
these  old  pillars  could  not  be  questioned,  but  it  was 
against  the  law  to  touch  them,  as  they  were  kept  for  the 
protection  of  the  miners. 

Before  Governor  Shepherd  had  been  at  the  hacienda 
twenty-four  hours  both  it  and  the  mine  took  on  the  appear- 
ance of  a  busy  beehive.  The  notoriously  lazy  Mexicans 
suddenly  discovered  that  they  could  move  at  the  double- 
quick  under  the  magnetic  eye  of  their  new  ruler.  It  seemed 
as  though  by  instinct  the  natives  instantly  recognized  the 
big  man  as  a  born  ruler,  and  he  was  in  fact  one  of  the 
ablest  executives  it  was  ever  my  good  fortune  to  know. 
He  seemed  instinctively  to  know  everything,  although  this 
was  his  first  experience  in  mining.  He  was  a  man  who  was 
fond  of  luxury  and  would  send  for  miles  to  some  snow- 
capped peak  for  snow  to  make  for  himself  a  cooling  drink, 
and  while  sitting  on  the  piazza  in  a  comfortable  chair, 


388   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

enjoying  a  fine  cigar,  no  man  could  pass  within  the  radius 
of  his  vision  that  he  did  not  instantly  know  what  that  fel- 
low could  do  best,  and  what  he  ought  to  be  doing  at  that 
moment. 

The  Governor  had  brought  with  him  a  large  amount 
of  paper  money  which  he  had  had  printed  in  New  York. 
He  at  once  opened  a  store  at  the  hacienda  and  told  the 
miners  that  he  intended  to  pay  them  with  this  paper  money 
and  that  they  could  buy  what  they  wanted  at  the  store 
with  it,  and  the  miners  greedily  accepted  his  offer.  Then, 
to  their  amazement  he  ordered  them  to  knock  down  those 
rich  columns  containing  Heaven  only  knows  how  much 
native  silver  to  the  ton ! 

Naturally  there  were  storekeepers  and  others  who  be- 
came envious,  and  they  reported  to  the  Government  at  the 
City  of  Mexico  how  the  Governor  had  defied  the  law  both 
in  the  matter  of  the  columns  and  in  the  issuing  of  paper 
money  without  the  consent  of  the  authorities.  But  a  little 
thing  like  that  did  not  faze  the  Governor.  The  row  got 
him  into  communication  with  the  President,  Don  Porfirio 
Diaz,  and  soon  this  extraordinary  Washington  man  had 
authority  to  do  pretty  much  as  he  pleased  in  the  Batopilas 
district,  and  even  the  mighty  jefe  politico,  or  sheriff,  was 
courting  his  favor. 

In  a  very  short  time  the  columns  were  ground  into  dust, 
the  silver  extracted  and  cast  into  bars  weighing  about  a 
hundred  pounds  each,  two  of  these  bars  were  strapped 
to  the  pack-saddle  of  each  mule,  and  I  was  started  with 
my  conducta,  carrying  a  hundred  and  forty  thousand  dol- 
lars worth  of  silver,  on  the  trail  to  Chihuahua.  At  Chi- 
huahua the  silver  was  turned  over  to  a  regular  freighter 
whose  wagon  train  took  it  across  the  American  boundary. 

No  sooner  had  I  arrived  in  Chihuahua  than  a  report 
spread  that  Shepherd  had  struck  a  new  and  immensely 
rich  pocket  in  the  San  Miguel  mine  which  was  once  more 
in  bonanza,  and  the  news  of  my  arrival  with  the  treasure 


Instinct  of  the  Mountain  Mule         389 

was  telegraphed  to  the  United  States  causing  quite  a  flurry- 
in  mining  circles.  This  was  the  beginning  of  the  great 
boom  inaugurated  in  Mexican  mines  by  American  pro- 
moters, in  which  millions  of  dollars,  in  good  money,  were 
invested.  Worked-out  mines  were  plentiful  and  cheap. 
Doubtless,  if  one  only  dug  deep  enough,  a  silver  mine  could 
be  found  anywhere  in  Mexico. 

Sometimes  I  carried  the  bullion  to  Mazatlan  on  the 
Pacific  Coast,  but  the  trail  to  Chihuahua  was  by  far 
the  most  picturesque  and  interesting.  Occasionally  in  the 
rainy  season  we  would  come  to  a  mountain  stream  that 
was  a  raging  torrent  and  impossible  to  ford,  and  then  we 
had  to  sit  down  by  the  side  of  it  and  wait  for  the  waters 
to  subside.  Of  course  we  had  no  conveniences  for  carrying 
tents,  and  when  it  rained  we  got  wet,  and  when  the  sun 
came  out  we  got  dry  again. 

We  usually  traveled  about  twenty  miles  a  day,  but  the 
distance  depended  upon  favorable  camping-spots.  When 
the  day's  journey  was  over,  the  mules  were  lassoed,  blind- 
folded, and  hobbled,  their  loads  and  pack-saddles  removed, 
and  then  the  blindfolds  were  taken  off,  and  they  were 
allowed  to  graze  on  the  mountain-sides  —  if  one  can  call 
it  grazing  where  no  two  spears  of  grass  are  within  ten  feet 
of  each  other.  These  hardy  little  animals,  however,  even 
with  their  front  feet  tied  together,  could  climb  like  goats, 
and  succeeded  in  getting  from  such  scanty  pasturage  suffi- 
cient sustenance  to  enable  them  day  after  day  to  climb  up 
rugged  mountains  with  from  two  to  three  hundred  pounds 
on  their  backs.  Sometimes  in  the  morning  our  start  would 
be  delayed  on  account  of  their  having  strayed  three  or 
four  miles  away  during  the  night. 

The  intelligence  —  or  instinct,  if  one  prefers  to  call  it 
such  —  of  these  mountain  mules  is  most  extraordinary. 
We  were  going  through  an  arroyo  one  afternoon,  the  bed 
of  the  stream  perfectly  dry,  and  its  banks  so  precipitous 
that  it  seemed  impossible  a  hoofed  animal  could  climb  them, 


390        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

when  without  any  apparent  cause  a  panic  or  stampede 
occurred,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  those  mules, 
with  their  heavy  packs,  were  climbing  up  the  precipitous 
sides  of  the  cliffs  as  though  they  were  squirrels.  The 
Mexicans  followed  them,  on  foot,  while  wildly  crying  to 
me  to  follow  their  example.  I  needed  no  persuasion,  as 
my  mule  became  unmanageable,  took  the  bit  in  his  teeth, 
and  scampered  up  the  steep  bank  as  nimbly  as  the  others. 
Perched  upon  a  ledge,  some  thirty  feet  above  the  trail,  I 
soon  learned  the  cause  of  the  excitement,  as  in  a  few  min- 
utes I  heard  a  mighty  roar  and  then  saw  a  wall  of  water 
some  fifteen  feet  in  height  rushing  down  the  arroyo.  The 
Mexicans  explained  to  me  that  there  had  been  a  cloud- 
burst up  in  the  mountains,  and  that  the  rush  of  the  torrent 
was  so  great  that  but  for  the  sense  of  the  so-called  "stupid " 
mules,  we  should  all  have  been  swept  to  our  deaths. 

This  life  on  the  trail  was  naturally  one  of  hardship  and 
privation.  When  we  camped  (going  toward  Chihuahua),  I 
always  made  the  men  lay  the  silver  bars  close  together  on 
the  ground  and  on  these  I  made  my  bed  by  spreading  my 
poncho,  or  rubber  sheet,  and  my  blanket  over  them.  Pauper 
as  I  was,  many  is  the  night  I  slept  on  a  fortune.  My  poncho 
was  my  sole  protection  from  the  weather  in  the  rainy  season, 
and  when  returning  to  Batopilas  with  the  mules  laden  with 
goods,  machinery, ,  or  provisions,  I  had,  like  the  others,  to 
sleep  on  the  bare  rock  or  ground,  and  many  a  morning 
found  that  I  had  a  tarantula  or  a  scorpion  for  a  bedfellow, 
but  I  never  saw  any  one  bitten  by  these  creatures.  Rattle- 
snakes at  high  altitudes  are  also  fond  of  human  companion- 
ship and  warmth,  and  are  disposed  to  creep  under  a  man's 
blanket  or  cuddle  up  alongside  of  him  while  he  sleeps,  but 
a  hair  rope  laid  in  a  circle  around  one's  sleeping-place  will 
prevent  their  too  near  approach. 

These  journeys  were  very  lonely  to  me.  I  usually  had 
with  me  eight  or  ten  men  to  manage  the  mules,  but  their  so- 
ciety was  not  very  comforting ;  I  much  prefered  the  com- 


Narrow  Escape  p&om  Apaches  391 

pany  of  the  long-eared  fraternity  "who  had  neither  pride  of 
ancestry  nor  hope  of  progeny."  I  never  met  a  Mexican  who 
did  not  try  to  impress  me  with  the  idea  that  the  only  way 
one  of  them  could  be  managed  was  by  showing  him  great 
deference  and  extreme  politeness ;  but  I  found  by  experience 
that  military  discipline  —  fearless  enforcing  of  orders  — 
worked  to  much  greater  advantage.  The  man  who  enters 
into  a  bowing  contest  with  a  Mexican  has  lost  before  he 
starts.  When  a  Mexican  means  mischief  he  always  ad- 
vances on  the  man  whom  he  intends  to  harm  with  his 
serape,  or  blanket,  closely  drawn  about  him,  hiding  both 
hands,  and  then  he  begins  by  paying  his  intended  victim 
fulsome  compliments,  drawing  nearer  and  nearer  all  the 
time,  until  close  enough  to  use  his  wicked  knife.  Naturally 
I  had  occasional  trouble  with  some  of  my  men  as  to  the 
propriety  of  their  obeying  orders,  and  when  one  of  them 
would  go  into  a  frenzy  of  rage  and  then  suddenly  control 
himself  and  pretend  that  he  wanted  to  apologize  and  would 
approach  me,  I  simply  would  draw  my  pistol  and  order  him 
to  open  his  blanket,  and  never  failed  to  find  the  ready  knife 
concealed  in  its  folds.  I  would  make  the  fellow  stand  where 
he  was  and  wait  without  argument  until  he  had  cooled  off. 
I  never  found  that  they  bore  malice  for  any  length  of  time, 
and  besides  they  had  quite  a  respect  for  any  one  who  was 
handy  with  a  gun. 

On  one  of  my  trips  I  came  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  los- 
ing my  hair.  I  had  made  a  very  hurried  journey  to  Chihua- 
hua with  some  two  hundred  silver  bars,  worth  a  thousand 
dollars  each,  which  Governor  Shepherd  was  very  anxious  to 
have  reach  the  town  before  the  regular  day  for  the  monthly 
freight  wagon  train  to  start  for  the  American  border,  as 
he  had  an  arrangement  with  American  bankers  by  which 
he  could  draw  bills  against  silver  shipments  as  soon  as  the 
bullion  crossed  the  Rio  Grande.  Despite  every  exertion,  I 
was  detained  by  swollen  mountain  streams  and  arrived  at 
Chihuahua  too  late  to  catch  the  wagons.  According  to  my 


392        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

instructions  I  turned  the  silver  bars  over  to  Mr.  Macmanus, 
the  Governor's  agent,  who  insisted  that  I  should  put  the 
silver  into  ambulances  and  try  to  catch  up  with  the  wagon 
train,  which  only  had  two  days  the  start  of  me,  and  which 
only  traveled  at  the  rate  of  about  ten  miles  a  day.  Mr. 
Macmanus  urged  this  course  because  he  said  he  knew  how 
important  it  was  for  the  Governor  to  have  the  shipment 
reach  the  border  as  soon  as  possible.  At  first  I  agreed  to  go, 
and  the  hour  for  my  departure  was  fixed  for  seven  o'clock 
the  next  morning.  I  was  tired  and  hungry,  and  going  to  the 
little  inn  quickly  ate  my  chile  con  came  and  tortillas  and 
then  went  to  bed. 

I  thought  little  of  the  race  I  was  to  make  after  the  wagons, 
as  it  was  all  in  the  day's  work,  and  when  day  broke  I  arose, 
quickly  dressed,  and  proceeded  to  Mr.  Macmanus's  store  to 
await  the  ambulances.  The  vehicles,  each  drawn  by  four 
fresh  mules,  arrived  on  time,  the  silver  bars  were  placed  in 
them,  I  bade  Mr.  Macmanus  and  his  partner  good-bye,  my 
foot  was  on  the  step  of  the  ambulance,  and  I  was  about  to 
give  the  word  to  start,  when  suddenly  a  queer  sensation  came 
over  me  and  the  idea  flashed  through  my  brain  that  I  had  no 
right  to  take  this  great  responsibility  on  myself.  I  withdrew 
my  foot  from  the  step  and  told  the  agent  that  I  had  decided 
not  to  go!  He  was  shocked  and  amazed;  tried  persuasion, 
and  threats  as  to  what  Governor  Shepherd  would  do  if  the 
bullion  failed  to  make  the  connection,  etc.;  but  I  replied 
that  my  instructions  were  explicit,  and  that  they  simply 
ordered  me  to  deliver  the  silver  to  Macmanus  &  Co.  at  Chi- 
huahua; and  that  I  declined  the  responsibility  of  making  a 
dash  toward  the  border  with  it  unless  I  had  clear  instruc- 
tions from  Governor  Shepherd  to  that  effect.  I  asked  them 
how,  if  by  any  accident  I  lost  the  treasure,  I  could  explain 
why,  without  orders,  I  was  speeding  for  the  border  with  it, 
when  my  instructions  were  to  deliver  it  in  Chihuahua  and 
take  a  receipt  for  it.  At  all  events,  I  would  not  go. 

At  twelve  o'clock  I  was  still  in  Macmanus's  store  super- 


A  Narrow  Escape  from  the  Apaches      393 

intending  the  packing  of  some  goods  I  was  to  take  back  to 
Batopilas,  when  suddenly  I  heard  men  in  front  of  the  store 
talking  in  a  most  excited  manner.  A  peon  from  Mr.  Mac- 
manus's  hacienda,  situated  about  twelve  miles  distant,  had 
come  to  Chihuahua  at  full  speed,  as  the  condition  of  the 
horse  he  rode  plainly  showed.  The  man  reported  that  at 
nine  o'clock  that  morning  Victoria,  chief  of  the  Apaches, 
with  his  band,  had  attacked  the  hacienda,  killed  and  out- 
raged many  of  the  residents,  —  in  fact  all  who  were  not 
quick  enough  to  get  away  and  hide ;  that  he  had  looted  the 
buildings,  and  driven  off  all  the  stock !  Had  I  started  with 
the  silver  I  was  to  have  made  my  first  change  of  mules  at 
this  hacienda,  and  I  most  probably  would  have  arrived  there 
simultaneously  with  Victoria,  who  was  every  bit  as  cruel 
a  savage  as  his  successor  Geronimo.  Instead  of  having  any 
more  fault  found  with  my  want  of  enterprise,  I  received 
many  compliments,  and  much  praise  for  my  good  judg- 
ment—  and  extraordinary  foresight  (?),  etc. 

On  one  of  my  trips  from  Batopilas  to  Mazatlan  on  the 
Pacific  Coast  with  a  conducta  of  over  a  hundred  thousand 
dollars  worth  of  silver  bars,  we  came  to  a  place  in  the  moun- 
tains where  the  trail  was  literally  strewn  with  silver  bars, 
and  not  a  man  or  a  mule  was  to  be  seen.  The  bars  lay  on 
the  ground  some  thirty  to  sixty  yards  apart  and  there  were 
a  great  many  of  them.  My  men  were  certain  that  a  conducta 
had  been  attacked  by  ladrones  and  urged  me  to  hurry  on,  as 
they  feared  the  bandits  would  return  for  their  booty  as  soon 
as  they  had  driven  its  lawful  guardians  well  away.  To  tell 
the  truth,  by  that  time  I  knew  the  Mexicans  well  enough  to 
know  that  had  I  stopped  and  tried  to  save  the  bullion,  I 
would  have  received  scant  thanks  from  its  rightful  owners. 
My  men  also  begged  me  not  to  say  anything  about  it,  as 
they  feared  they  would  be  imprisoned  until  the  bandits  were 
captured  —  a  very  indefinite  period,  indeed.  I  sympathized 
with  my  peons,  for  a  Mexican  jail  is  no  joke.  It  is  expected 
by  the  authorities  that  a  prisoner's  family  will  feed  him,  and 


394   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

if  he  has  no  money  or  friends,  the  only  things  he  is  given  to 
eat  are  soup,  made  from  the  heads  and  shin  bones  of  some 
unfortunate  animal,  and  a  crust  of  coarse  bread  not  fit  for 
human  beings  to  eat.  I  visited  one  of  the  jails  once  and  a 
filthier  place  it  would  be  hard  to  imagine. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

Resign  position  as  chief  of  conductas  and  start  for  home  via  Mazatlan  and 
San  Francisco  — <■  Alamos  —  Witness  marriage  between  a  Mexican  girl  and  a 
German  —  New  York  —  A  dress-suit  my  chief  asset  —  Return  to  Mexico 
and  become  a  civil  engineer  (?)  —  Primitive  coaching  —  Queretaro  and  its 
opal  mines. 

To  the  wanderer  in  strange  lands  home  becomes  endowed 
with  all  sorts  of  advantages  which  had  not  been  perceived 
before  he  roamed  away  from  it.  The  fact  that  he  left  be- 
cause he  could  not  make  a  living  there  is  entirely  forgotten. 
My  life  on  the  trail  was  one  of  hardship,  and  I  could  see  no 
prospect  of  bettering  it  if  I  spent  the  rest  of  my  days  on  one 
mule  while  driving  others  up  and  down  the  mountain-sides. 
In  the  lonely  hours  of  the  night  I  thought  of  many  things 
I  could  do  if  I  could  only  once  more  put  my  foot  on  my 
native  heath.  A  job  appears  to  be  about  the  easiest  thing 
in  the  world  to  get  to  a  man  who  is  not  in  need  of  one. 

I  resigned  my  position  as  chief  of  conductas,  and  Governor 
Shepherd  made  arrangements  for  me  to  accompany,  on  my 
way  home,  one  Don  Ramon,  a  merchant  in  Batopilas  who 
was  about  to  start  for  Mazatlan  with  a  conducta.  Young 
Lyman  Learned,  of  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts,  a  boy  of 
eighteen,  who  was  in  ill  health,  also  took  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  return  to  the  States,  or  "God's  own  coun- 
try," as  self -exiled  Americans  call  it. 

There  is  no  race  on  earth  that  the  Mexicans,  high  or  low, 
hate  as  they  do  the  Americans,  and  Don  Ramon  did  not 
hanker  after  our  company  and  made  no  secret  of  the  fact. 
But  to  avoid  incurring  the  displeasure  of  the  all-powerful 
Governor  Shepherd,  he,  with  rather  bad  grace,  consented 
to  allow  the  two  Gringos  to  ride  along  the  same  trail  in 
sight  of  His  Highness's  mules. 

"Gringo,"  being  interpreted,  means  the  "unintelligible," 
and  is  an  expression  of  contempt  applied  to  all  Americans. 


396        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Arriving  at  the  town  of  Alamos,  we  spent  two  days  making 
arrangements  to  have  our  mules  returned  to  Batopilas  and 
also  waiting  for  a  tri-weekly  stage  that  would  take  us  to  the 
coast  of  the  Gulf  of  California  and  from  thence  to  Mazatlan. 
While  at  Alamos  we  saw  a  rather  unique  ceremony.  A  young 
German  was  to  be  married  to  the  daughter  of  a  prosperous 
Mexican  merchant,  and  before  the  ceremony  could  be  per- 
formed he  had  to  be  taken  to  the  fountain,  in  the  centre  of 
the  plaza  on  which  the  church  was  situated,  where  he  was 
stripped  and  publicly  bathed.  A  sheet  was  then  wrapped 
around  him;  and  he  walked  to  the  steps  which  led  up  to 
the  portals  of  the  church,  where  he  was  made  to  crawl  on  all 
fours  until  he  reached  the  door;  then  he  was  made  to  get 
down  on  his  belly  and  wriggle  his  way  up  the  aisle  to  the 
chancel  rail,  where  he  was  again  permitted  to  stand  erect 
while  he  renounced  Protestantism ;  after  which  he  was  con- 
ducted to  the  vestry,  where  he  arrayed  himself  in  his  best 
clothes  and  returned  to  meet  his  bride  at  the  altar  and  the 
ceremony  was  at  last  performed. 

A  wedding  in  Mexico  was  at  this  time  a  most  expensive 
luxury.  I  was  told  that  no  priest  would  marry  a  couple, 
even  if  they  were  peons,  for  a  smaller  fee  than  three  hun- 
dred dollars,  and  in  that  day  no  peon  could  hope  to  save 
that  amount,  from  his  scant  wages  of  five  or  ten  cents  for 
a  day's  work,  in  a  lifetime.  So  the  poorer  classes  just  did 
without  the  blessing  of  the  Church,  and  I  must  say,  to  the 
credit  of  the  Mexicans,  that  it  rarely,  if  ever,  happens  that 
one  of  them  deserts  the  mother  of  his  children. 

Learned  and  I  took  passage  in  a  steamer  bound  for  San 
Francisco,  and  singular  to  relate  she  proved  to  be  the  iden- 
tical ship  I  had  once  made  a  voyage  in  from  Charleston, 
South  Carolina,  to  New  York  nearly  twenty  years  before. 
Remembering  some  acrobatics  the  old  "water-bruiser"  had 
performed  off  Cape  Hatteras  on  that  occasion,  I  earnestly 
prayed  that  we  should  not  butt  into  one  of  those  not  in- 
frequent gales  that  the  Pacific  is  famed  for. 


Back  in  New  York  397 

After  a  short  and  pleasant  stay  in  San  Francisco,  Learned 
and  I  started  on  our  tedious  overland  journey  to  New  York, 
where  I  found  myself  in  a  few  days  and  at  once  went  in 
search  of  that  employment  which  had  seemed  so  easy  to 
obtain  in  my  day-dreams  when  following  the  lonely  trail  in 
Mexico.  But  in  the  turmoil  of  New  York's  busy  streets 
there  seemed  to  be  no  place  for  dreamers  of  vague  dreams, 
and  I  soon  found  myself  wandering  about  with  no  very 
definite  object  in  view.  I  did  not  know  how  to  ask  a  stranger 
to  give  me  employment,  and  if  the  stranger  had  asked  me 
what  I  could  do,  I  could  only  have  anwered,  "Reef,  furl, 
and  steer,  a  little  navigation,  ride  a  horse,  and  some  little 
knowledge  as  to  how  sugar  cane  and  cotton  seed  ought  to 
be  planted,"  and  I  began  to  have  grave  doubts  as  to  whether 
my  accomplishments  would  make  me  an  invaluable  em- 
ployee in  a  counting-house. 

I  suppose  every  man  has  his  little  fad,  idiosyncrasy,  or 
peculiarity  secreted  some  place  about  his  person ;  at  least  all 
the  men  I  have  ever  met  carried  around  some  pet  foible. 
Among  my  acquaintances  the  man  who  came  nearest  to 
being  free  from  fads  was  a  millionaire  who  was  lavish  in  his 
hospitality,  and  as  generous  as  a  prince  ought  to  be ;  but  alas, 
his  pet  and  only  economy  was  the  saving  of  matches  and  it 
really  hurt  his  feelings  to  see  one  wasted. 

One  of  my  idiosyncrasies  was  a  dress-suit.  Through  hope 
and  despondency  I  clung  to  mine  in  whatever  part  of  the 
world  I  was,  and  it  never  failed  to  reward  me  by  securing 
for  me  a  good  time  which,  had  I  not  been  so  loyal  to  it, 
would  have  been  impossible.  So  after  tramping  the  streets  in 
the  business  district  downtown  all  day,  I  would  seek  that 
dress-suit  when  the  shades  of  evening  ended  my  fruitless 
quest,  and  as  I  donned  it  my  dejected  air  as  by  magic  disap- 
peared, and  once  more  I  became  the  man  of  the  world  with- 
out a  care,  usually  spending  my  evenings  at  some  entertain- 
ment at  the  houses  of  my  wealthy  friends,  or  at  the  clubs,  to 
several  of  which  I  always  had  cards  of  invitation  when  in 


398        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

New  York.  Many  of  my  friends  would  have  gladly  assisted 
me  in  getting  employment,  but  how  can  a  man  be  helped 
in  that  way  when  he  becomes  speechless  as  the  first  busi- 
ness conundrum  is  asked  him  —  "What  do  you  know  how 
to  do?" 

To  the  impecunious  man  the  day  to  "move  on"  comes 
sooner  or  later,  generally  sooner.  I  one  day  met  the  captain 
of  a  steamer  which  was  about  to  sail  for  Vera  Cruz,  and 
taking  a  fancy  to  me,  the  skipper  invited  me  to  accompany 
him,  as  his  guest,  on  the  voyage.  Of  course  I  accepted,  and 
on  the  ship  met  a  Mr.  Van  Vleck,  a  civil  engineer,  who, 
accompanied  by  his  son  and  three  other  young  men,  was  on 
his  way  to  Mexico  in  the  employment  of  the  Mexican  Cen- 
tral Railroad,  a  corporation  which  at  that  time  had  recently 
been  formed.  Mr.  Van  Vleck  informed  me  that  his  engineer- 
ing party  was  complete  with  the  exception  of  a  "topog- 
rapher" and  offered  me  the  position.  When  I  told  him  I 
had  no  knowledge  of  the  work,  he  brushed  aside  my  scruples 
by  saying  that  he  would  teach  me,  and  of  course  I  was  per- 
fectly delighted  with  the  opportunity. 

At  Vera  Cruz  the  American  Consul  informed  me  that  my 
brother,  the  Minister,  was  spending  a  few  days  at  Orizaba, 
and  I  at  once  proceeded  to  that  place  to  visit  him.  After  a 
few  pleasant  days  spent  with  my  brother  and  his  family,  I 
had  once  more  to  come  down  from  my  high  horse,  as  the 
brother  of  the  representative  of  the  United  States,  and  go 
to  work  as  a  "sub"  in  the  engineering  party,  which  I  joined 
in  the  City  of  Mexico.  We  proceeded  by  stage-coach  to 
Leon  where  we  were  to  commence  our  work. 

Traveling  by  stage-coach  in  Mexico  (before  the  days  of 
the  railroads)  was  a  most  exhilarating  and  exciting  experi- 
ence. Besides  the  very  rough  roads  and  beautiful  scenery 
there  was  always  the  possibility,  if  not  probability,  of  hav- 
ing a  brush  with  bandits,  and  the  certainty  of  an  upset  at 
more  or  less  frequent  intervals.  The  stage-coaches  were 
drawn  by  nine  mules  —  two  at  the  pole,  four  in  the  "swing," 


Traveling  in  Mexico  by  Stage-Coach      399 

and  three  in  the  lead.  The  stage-driver  was  a  man  of  great 
importance  whom  every  one  treated  with  marked  deference. 
He  never  condescended  to  do  anything  but  drive,  and  along- 
side of  him,  on  the  box  seat,  was  his  mozo  or  servant.  At 
his  right  was  a  stand  containing  three  varieties  of  whips 
with  lashes  of  various  lengths  for  use  on  the  wheelers,  or  the 
mules  in  the  swing,  and  the  longest  was  for  use  on  the  lead- 
ers, who  were  so  far  away  that  it  was  difficult  to  reach  them 
with  any  accuracy.  This  difficulty  was  provided  against  by 
the  mozo  supplying  himself  with  a  bucketful  of  pebbles, 
which  he  threw  with  such  accuracy  that  he  could  hit  either 
ear  of  any  mule  in  the  lead,  especially  if  he  was  offered  a 
small  coin  for  an  exhibition  of  his  skill.  Of  course  the  con- 
trol of  that  number  of  hard-headed  and  hard-mouthed  mules 
was  accomplished  principally  by  a  powerful  brake  on  which, 
by  placing  his  foot  on  the  lever,  the  driver  could  throw  his 
whole  weight. 

Occasionally  when  the  mules  were  changed  at  a  hacienda 
a  perfectly  wild  and  untrained  one  would  be  brought  out  and 
blindfolded  and  then  most  unceremoniously  thrown  down 
and  his  feet  tied;  while  in  that  uncomfortable  position  the 
harness  would  be  put  on  him  and  he  would  be  hitched  to 
the  stage  as  one  of  the  inside  mules  of  the  swing.  Then  the 
other  mules  would  be  placed  and  the  wild  animal's  feet 
untied,  the  blindfold  removed  as  the  driver  shouted  to  his 
team,  and  away  they  would  go  at  the  gallop  while  the 
frenzied  and  frightened  wild  mule  would  be  plunging  and 
kicking  and  throwing  himself  on  the  ground  in  his  despera- 
tion. But  the  rest  of  the  team  never  wavered  or  hesitated 
in  their  mad  race,  and  whether  lying  on  his  side  or  kicking, 
the  unruly  one  was  dragged  along  until  he  learned  that  it 
was  more  comfortable  to  gallop  with  the  rest  than  to  be 
dragged  over  the  rough  stones  on  his  side.  The  lesson  was 
usually  learned  in  a  mile  or  two. 

On  our  way  to  Leon  we  passed  through  the  rather  pretty 
city  of  Queretaro,  near  which  the  Emperor  Maximilian 


400   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

was  so  cruelly  put  to  death.  One  of  the  most  singular  traits 
of  the  Spanish  race  is  their  fastidiousness  about  the  place 
where  they  murder  an  honorable  enemy.  They  must  have 
a  wall  to  put  his  back  against.  The  wall,  or  something 
equally  as  good,  is  an  absolute  requisite  properly  to  stage 
the  sport.  About  two  miles  from  Queretaro,  standing  alone 
in  a  broad  and  level  prairie,  rises  a  solitary  rock  some  hun- 
dred feet  long  and  about  thirty  feet  high  with  a  precipitous 
side,  and  poor  Maximilian,  who  after  his  capture  was  im- 
prisoned in  the  city,  was  taken  all  that  distance  before  his 
execution  so  that  his  murderers  could  have  a  fitting  back- 
ground for  the  tragedy. 

Another  thing  for  which  Queretaro  is  famous  is  its  opal 
mines.  I  was  fortunate  enough  to  obtain  permission  to  enter 
one  of  these  mines,  and  lit  up  by  torches  the  interior  fur- 
nished one  of  the  most  beautiful  sights  that  eye  ever  beheld. 
It  was  like  fairyland.  The  multi-colored  jewels  reflected  the 
light  from  the  dome,  the  sides,  and  the  floor  of  the  cave. 
There  were  pieces  of  opal,  protruding  from  the  walls,  which 
were  as  large  as  a  man's  body,  and  I  no  longer  wondered 
why  opals  were  cheap  in  Mexico.  At  the  hotel  I  bought  a 
handful  of  small  stones  from  a  peon,  who  seemed  gleeful 
when  I  paid  him  with  a  Mexican  silver  dollar.  I  was  after- 
wards informed  by  the  proprietor  of  the  inn  that  I  had 
been  outrageously  swindled,  as  had  he  known  I  wanted  to 
buy  opals  he  would  have  furnished  me  with  twice  the 
number  for  half  the  price. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

Leon,  the  city  whose  sole  industry  is  the  carving  of  leather  and  making  of 
saddles  —  Running  trial  lines  on  the  gallop  —  La  Piedad  —  Did  n't  flop 
quick  enough  and  got  stoned  —  The  brave  peccary  —  The  strangler  tree  —  The 
tree  that  bleeds  blood  —  Come  upon  a  murdered  man  lying  on  the  road  — 
The  volcano  of  Colima  —  General  Grant  only  likes  rebels  who  fought  —  Mr. 
Gilmore  comes  near  losing  his  life  in  the  Jule  River  —  Return  to  the  States 
to  finance  a  silver  mine. 

On  our  arrival  at  Leon  we  were  surprised  to  find  so  large 
and  thriving  a  city  so  far  in  the  interior  and  of  whose  exist- 
ence we  had  theretofore  been  ignorant.  The  secret  of  its 
prosperity  lay  in  the  fact  that  it  was  the  centre  of  the  sad- 
dlery and  carved  leather  industry  for  which  it  is  famed  in 
Mexico. 

We  bought  horses  and  saddles  and  engaged  mozos  (serv- 
ants who  care  for  the  horses),  for  this  unique  surveying 
party  was  to  be  mounted.  The  reason  for  this  was  that 
there  was  a  rival  corporation  in  the  field  and  the  one  which 
first  got  its  maps  to  the  City  of  Mexico  would  obtain  the 
rich  concession. 

We  took  our  departure  from  Leon,  and  when  we  had  got 
well  out  of  sight  of  the  place,  the  race  began.  The  "flag" 
man  would  be  sent  at  the  gallop  as  far  ahead  as  he  could  be 
seen  by  the  "transit"  man,  and  the  "chain"  men  measured 
the  distance  on  the  trot.  As  soon  as  they  were  far  enough 
ahead,  the  transit  stand  was  folded  and  given  in  charge  to  a 
mounted  peon  and  he  and  the  engineer  put  spurs  to  their 
horses  and  caught  up  with  the  flag.  The  work  of  the  man 
with  the  level  and  of  the  topographer  was  necessarily  slower, 
and  after  the  start  we  rarely  saw  the  party  again  until  we 
rejoined  them,  sometimes  late  in  the  night,  at  the  camp  or 
village  where  they  slept.  In  this  manner  we  sometimes 
went  over  as  much  as  thirty  miles  in  a  day,  but  as  the  very 
rough  work  was  to  be  done  over  again  before  any  railroad 


402   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

was  built,  it  did  not  matter.  The  concession  was  the  thing 
to  get,  and  after  that  was  secured  the  engineers  that  were  to 
follow  would  do  the  real  work.  At  towns  like  Irapuato,  La 
Piedad,  etc.,  we  would  stop  for  days  while  the  maps  were 
being  made,  and  as  soon  as  finished  they  were  hurried  on  to 
the  City  of  Mexico  and  the  concession  claimed.  They  were 
very  pretty  maps  and  served  their  purpose  well,  but  I  should 
have  hated  to  be  a  contractor  who  based  his  estimates  on 
them. 

This  surveying  expedition  was  a  very  interesting  experi- 
ence to  me.  My  duties  necessitated  my  riding  for  miles 
away  from  the  line,  and  although  I  had  few  adventures 
worthy  of  being  recounted,  still  I  saw  much  of  the  country 
that  was  of  interest,  such  as  visiting  a  silver  mine  situated 
on  the  top  of  a  mountain  so  high  that  the  snow  never 
melted,  and  going  down  the  mountain-side,  in  less  than  an 
hour,  I  found  myself  in  a  country  where  oranges,  pineapples, 
and  bananas  grew  luxuriantly. 

While  in  La  Piedad  I  had  a  somewhat  unpleasant  experi- 
ence owing  to  my  ignorance  of  the  manners  and  customs  of 
the  people.  La  Piedad,  as  its  name  indicates,  is  a  very  reli- 
gious town.  I  was  walking  on  the  principal  street  one  day 
when  a  religious  procession  came  along.  I  saw  the  people 
kneel  on  the  dirty  roadway  as  the  crucifix  approached,  but 
not  being  a  Catholic  I  had  no  idea  that  I  was  expected  to  do 
likewise ;  but  the  Mexicans  easily  made  their  desires  under- 
stood by  the  accursed  Gringo  by  throwing  a  shower  of 
stones  at  me,  several  of  which  hit  their  mark  before  I  could 
find  refuge  in  an  open  doorway. 

On  another  occasion,  while  alone,  I  saw  a  peccary,  a  small 
wild  hog,  come  out  of  a  jungle  and  stop  in  the  middle  of  the 
trail.  These  animals  are  fighters  and  wonderfully  brave. 
To  get  a  good  shot  at  him  with  my  Winchester  rifle  I  dis- 
mounted and  fired,  with  the  result  that  the  peccary  was 
wounded  and  my  horse  broke  away  and  left  me  standing 
there,  while  the  pig  squealed  and  four  of  his  companions 


The  Strangler  Tree  403 

answered  to  his  call  of  distress  and  made  an  awful  row  over 
him.  They  stood  there,  some  hundred  and  fifty  yards  from 
me,  until  I  shot  the  last  one  of  them  down.  These  animals 
have  a  gland  on  their  backs  near  the  tail  which,  when  they 
are  injured,  emits  a  stench  that  would  make  a  skunk  turn 
green  with  envy,  and  which  if  not  quickly  removed  with  a 
knife  in  a  manner  well  known  to  the  Mexican,  permeates 
the  flesh  and  makes  it  unfit  for  food,  but  when  the  operation 
is  successfully  performed  the  meat  is  sweet  and  the  hams 
are  unexcelled  in  delicacy  of  flavor. 

Among  the  sights  which  made  an  impression  on  me  was  a 
forest  of  wild  orange  trees  through  which  we  rode  for  miles. 
I  also  saw  many  of  the  hygera,  a  species  of  the  banyan  tree 
in  appearance.  This  tree  is  an  assassin  and  a  strangler.  It 
starts  as  a  slender  vine  and  quickly  climbs  the  tree  it  has 
selected  for  a  victim  —  forms  a  network  around  the  trunk, 
and  creeping  out  on  the  branches  it  sends  down  vines  which 
on  reaching  the  ground  take  root  and  quickly  grow  to  the 
size  of  large  posts.  The  lacework  formed  by  the  vine 
around  the  trunk  of  the  doomed  tree  grows  into  a  solid  mass, 
and  as  the  hygera  grows  with  great  rapidity  it  tears  the 
roots  of  the  tree  out  of  the  ground  and  replaces  them  with 
its  own.  I  saw  one  of  these  parasite  trees  which,  with  its 
posts  supporting  its  limbs,  covered  at  least  half  an  acre  of 
ground. 

Another  tree  which  interested  me  very  much  produced  a 
fruit  about  the  size  of  a  large  apple  with  a  russet-colored, 
thin  skin,  which  contained  a  most  delicious  custard;  one 
tasting  it  could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  not  made  by  some 
expert  cook.  I  also  saw  a  tree  called  the  sangre,  about 
which  the  Mexicans  in  our  party  seemed  to  be  somewhat 
superstitious.  When  the  bark  was  cut  through  with  a  knife, 
it  was  found  that  its  sap  was  of  the  color  of  blood  and  left  a 
stain  on  a  handkerchief  exactly  as  blood  would  do. 

But  there  were  other  sights  to  be  seen  in  Mexico  besides 
the  beauties  of  nature.  I  was  riding  along  a  public  highway 


404        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

early  one  morning  when  a  heavy  fog  prevailed.  Suddenly 
my  horse  shied  and  whirled  around  so  suddenly  that  I  was 
almost  unseated,  and  after  I  had  got  him  under  control,  he 
could  not  be  persuaded  to  return  to  the  spot  where  he  had 
balked  until  my  mozo  had  dismounted,  and  leading  his  own 
horse,  led  the  way.  An  exclamation  from  the  mozo  caused 
me  to  dismount  also,  and  on  approaching  him  I  plainly  saw 
through  the  now  lifting  fog  the  cause  of  my  horse's  fright. 
There,  lying  on  his  back,  with  wide-open,  bulging  eyes,  was 
a  fine-looking  man  with  about  a  foot  of  a  machete  standing 
up  out  of  his  breast.  His  dead  body  lay  in  a  pool  of  blood. 
My  mozo  examined  him  and  expressed  the  opinion  that  the 
poor  fellow  had  not  been  dead  for  very  long,  as  his  body  was 
still  warm.  As  we  could  do  nothing  for  him,  we  continued 
on  our  way,  and  until  we  reached  the  next  village  the  mozo 
kept  entreating  me  not  to  mention  what  we  had  seen.  At 
the  town  I  met  an  American  who  had  been  many  years  in 
the  country,  and  naturally  I  confided  to  him  our  gruesome 
secret.  To  my  surprise  he  advised  me  to  ride  on,  and  to  ride 
fast,  as  at  any  moment  an  official  might  be  informed  of  the 
tragedy,  and  if  it  was  known  that  my  mozo  and  I  had  passed 
along  that  road  we  should  be  thrown  into  prison  and  kept 
there  until  our  friends  could  produce  the  murderer  who  had 
committed  the  awful  deed.  I  took  his  advice,  and  urged  on 
by  my  mozo,  rode  fast. 

Our  road  took  us  within  a  short  distance  of  Colima,  that 
wonderful  volcano  which,  with  almost  clocklike  regularity, 
sends  up  into  the  heavens  a  great  cloud  of  smoke  every  four 
hours. 

Without  further  adventure  I  arrived  at  the  City  of  Mex- 
ico, where  I  became  an  attache  of  the  Legation  and  spent 
several  very  pleasant  months  in  that  beautiful  climate, 
where  it  is  never  very  hot  or  cold  and  where  the  elements  are 
so  well  regulated  that  in  the  rainy  season  one  can  tell  by 
looking  at  his  watch  about  when  it  is  going  to  rain.  At  the 
same  hour  every  afternoon  the  shower  comes  down,  and 


The  City  of  Mexico  405 

after  it  has  laid  the  dust,  Society  enters  its  carriages  and  all 
the  swells  go  out  for  a  drive.  The  last  piece  of  property  a 
Mexican  parts  with,  when  adversity  overtakes  him,  is  his 
carriage. 

My  brother's  residence,  on  the  fine  public  square  called 
the  Alameda,  and  the  United  States  Legation,  were  twin 
buildings  adjoining  each  other.  One  morning,  coming  out 
of  the  Legation,  I  was  accosted  by  a  gentleman  who  asked 
to  be  directed  to  Judge  Morgan's  house.  Although  I  had 
never  met  General  Grant,  I  instantly  recognized  him  from 
his  resemblance  to  the  many  portraits  I  had  seen.  While  I 
was  offering  to  escort  him  into  the  house,  my  brother  ap- 
peared and,  after  greeting  the  general,  laughingly  said: 
"Do  you  know  that  is  a  rebel  you  are  talking  to,  General?" 
The  ex-President  gave  me  a  kindly  smile  and  turning  to 
Judge  Morgan  replied:  "Well,  the  question  is,  did  he  fight? 
It  is  only  the  other  kind  of  rebels  I  can't  get  along  with." 
And  that  is  the  extent  of  my  only  interview  with  the  great 
Union  general,  as  he  and  my  brother  entered  the  house  and 
I  never  saw  him  again. 

There  was  sojourning  in  the  City  of  Mexico  at  this  time  a 
young  gentleman  from  New  Orleans  by  the  name  of  Gil- 
more.  One  of  his  brothers  had  married  a  daughter  of  Judge 
Morgan.  Gilmore  had  been  tempted  to  go  to  Mexico  by 
stories  he  had  heard  about  the  golden  opportunities  that 
there  awaited  young  men  of  energy.  He  unfortunately  fell 
into  the  hands  of  an  enthusiastic  disciple  of  Colonel  Sellers, 
who  persuaded  him  that  there  was  "  a  fortune  in  pigs."  Gil- 
more  invested  his  money  with  him  in  a  ham  manufactory  in 
Puebla,  with  the  usual  result,  that  when  the  partnership  was 
dissolved,  Gilmore  received  only  the  experience  for  his  share 
of  the  assets. 

One  day  Gilmore  informed  me  that  he  had  received  a 
communication  from  a  Mexican  who  dwelt  a  hundred  or 
more  miles  away,  on  the  road  to  Tampico,  offering  him 
a  three-fourths  interest  in  a  rich  silver  mine  if  he  would 


406   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

furnish  the  money  to  work  it.  Gilmore  was  enthusiastic 
over  the  proposition  and  offered  me  an  interest  (in  the  com- 
pany to  be  formed)  if  I  would  go  with  him  and  investigate 
the  property.  I  jumped  at  the  chance,  and  accompanied  by 
two  mozos  we  mounted  our  horses  and  started  for  —  we 
did  not  know  where. 

We  finally  found  the  man  who  owned  the  mine  and  he 
piloted  us  to  it.  It  did  not  require  an  expert  to  see  that  there 
was  silver  in  the  vein,  as  pieces  of  metal  larger  than  ten- 
penny  nails  stuck  out  of  the  rocks,  and  we  were  permitted 
to  take  away  with  us  a  small  bagful  as  samples  to  show 
prospective  investors. 

As  Gilmore  and  I  had  more  time  than  anything  else,  we 
determined  to  prospect  the  country  further  and  in  fact  ride 
as  far  as  Tampico,  a  seaport  we  both  desired  to  see.  So  we 
bade  an  adios  to  the  Mexican  who  owned  the  mine  and 
again  started  on  our  travels. 

We  proceeded  on  our  way  until  we  reached  the  Jule 
(pronounced  "Hoola"),  or  India  Rubber  River,  where  we 
proposed  to  stop  for  a  long  rest.  It  was  well  that  we  had 
determined  to  rest  there,  as  there  was  a  freshet  and  we  found 
the  stream  unfordable  until  the  waters  should  subside.  On 
our  way  to  the  river  our  narrow  trail  led  at  times  through  a 
dense  growth  of  wild  lemon  bushes  whose  leaves  were  in- 
fested with  a  tick  whose  Mexican  name  is  too  indecent  to 
mention.  This  tick,  on  being  brushed  off  the  leaves  by  a 
horseman's  legs,  gets  under  his  trousers  and  bores  its  way 
through  the  skin,  where  it  deposits  eggs  which  soon  cause 
an  ugly  sore  and  a  scab  to  form,  which  rapidly  grows  and 
has  the  appearance  of  small  horns.  They  sometimes  grow 
to  a  length  of  three  quarters  of  an  inch  and  the  slightest 
touch  causes  them  to  give  most  agonizing  pain,  and  fre- 
quently they  cause  the  temporary  loss  of  the  use  of  the 
lower  limbs.  The  itching  is  maddening.  The  antidote  for 
these  insects  grows  on  the  same  bush  on  which  they  live,  in 
the  shape  of  a  lemon  whose  juice  instantly  kills  them,  but 


A  Narrow  Escape  from  Drowning        407 

this  fact  we  did  not  know  at  the  time,  and  suffered  accord- 
ingly. 

On  the  side  from  which  we  approached  the  stream  were 
cliffs  some  seventy  feet  in  height,  and  the  river  was  reached 
by  the  dry  bed  of  an  arroyo  which  formed  the  road  to  the 
ford.  The  stream  at  this  point  was  some  four  hundred  yards 
in  width  and  the  shore  just  opposite  was  low.  Below  the 
ford  cliffs  arose  on  the  other  side,  the  river  rapidly  nar- 
rowed, and  the  current  greatly  increased  in  velocity  until 
the  water  poured  over  falls,  some  eighty  feet  in  height,  a 
few  hundred  yards  farther  downstream. 

We  longed  for  a  bath,  and  lost  no  time  in  taking  off  our 
clothes  and  entering  the  water.  There  was  a  small  islet,  the 
crest  of  a  sandbar,  which  showed  its  top  above  the  water, 
and  I  swam  for  it.  Making  a  landing,  I  lay  down  and  began 
to  rub  my  itching  skin  with  sand  and  called  out  to  Gilmore 
(who  had  told  me  that  he  could  swim)  to  come  over  and 
enjoy  it.  Gilmore  struck  out,  and  when  he  had  swam  half 
the  distance,  to  my  horror,  I  saw  that  he  was  in  trouble.  I 
plunged  into  the  water  and  went  to  his  assistance.  As  I  ap- 
proached him  he  threw  up  his  arms  and  sank,  but  I  was 
fortunate  enough  to  grab  and  raise  him  to  the  surface.  I 
was  dismayed  to  find  that  he  had  lost  consciousness,  but 
supporting  him  with  one  arm  I  swam  for  the  shore  with  the 
other,  naturally  making  but  slow  headway,  and  conscious 
of  the  fact  that  the  current  was  increasing  in  velocity  every 
moment.  At  last  we  reached  the  cliff  and  I  seized  a  small 
bush  which  was  growing  out  of  a  crevice  in  the  rock.  For  a 
few  moments  my  anchorage  held  while  I  shouted  to  the 
Mexican  mozos  for  help.  Then,  after  a  few  seconds,  the  roots 
of  the  bush  were  torn  out  by  our  weight  and  again  we  were 
carried  down  by  the  current.  This  happened  again  and 
again  while  the  roar  of  the  falls  came  nearer  and  louder  each 
moment.  At  last  I  caught  hold  of  a  tuft  of  grass,  the  last 
hope  in  sight,  and  before  it  pulled  out  from  its  fastenings 
the  mozos  on  top  of  the  cliff  tied  their  lassos  together  and 


408   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

lowered  them  down  to  me.  I  at  once  made  them  fast  to 
Gilmore's  body  and  told  the  Mexicans  to  hoist  away,  which 
they  did,  and  after  great  effort  they  finally  landed  him  safe, 
but  still  insensible.  While  Gilmore  was  being  hoisted  up, 
my  tuft  of  grass  came  out  and  I  went  drifting  down  the 
stream,  only  able  to  retard  my  progress  by  pressing  my  torn 
hands  against  the  almost  smooth  side  of  the  cliff,  but  finally 
—  it  seemed  ages  to  me  —  the  mozos  again  lowered  the 
lasso,  and  I  was  hauled  up  to  safety.  I  found  that  my  friend 
was  still  unconscious,  and  to  the  amazement  of  the  Mexi- 
cans I  made  them  help  me  to  hold  him  upside  down  until  the 
water  ran  out  of  him,  and  after  working  his  arms  up  and 
down  and  attempting  to  revive  him  by  artificial  respiration, 
at  the  same  time  rubbing  him  with  mescal  (native  whiskey 
made  from  the  maguey  plant)  we  succeeded  in  bringing 
him  to. 

After  a  wait  of  four  or  five  days,  until  the  waters  sub- 
sided and  Gilmore  had  recovered  from  his  shock,  we  waded 
and  swam  our  horses  across  the  river  which  had  so  nearly 
caused  our  finish,  and  continued  our  journey.  On  our  way, 
when  near  the  head  of  navigation  on  the  Panuco  River  we 
met  with  a  strange  character  in  the  shape  of  a  white  man 
who  said  he  was  from  Philadelphia  originally,  but  had  lived 
in  Mexico  for  thirty  years.  He  was  a  quack  doctor,  and  evi- 
dently belonged  to  the  class  of  "lost"  men  whose  people,  if 
he  had  any,  supposed  dead.  The  doctor,  without  invitation, 
joined  our  party  and  proceeded  with  us  to  Panuco.  He  be- 
came very  friendly  on  the  way,  and  informed  me  that  he 
knew  where  there  was  a  lake  of  asphalt  and  that  for  a  very 
small  consideration  he  would  guide  me  to  it.  But  my  mind 
was  engaged  in  dreaming  dreams  about  the  great  wealth  to 
be  obtained  out  of  the  silver  mine,  so  I  paid  very  little 
attention  to  his  story. 

Gilmore  and  I  proceeded  to  Tampico,  stayed  there  a  few 
days,  and  returned  to  the  City  of  Mexico  without  further 
adventure.  It  was  decided  that  I  should  take  the  little  bag 


Financing  a  Silver  Mine  409 

of  ore  samples  and  go  to  New  York,  via  Vera  Cruz  and 
Havana,  for  the  purpose  of  raising  money  to  exploit  our 
find.  I  could  interest  no  one  in  New  York  in  the  enterprise, 
so,  procuring  some  letters  of  introduction  to  people  in 
Chicago,  I  went  to  that  city  only  to  find  that  the  instant 
silver  mines  were  mentioned  I  was  looked  upon  with  sus- 
picion. In  fact,  the  capitalists  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted 
that  I  was  one  of  the  class  of  operators  who  wished  to  or- 
ganize a  company  to  work  an  imaginary  hole  in  the  ground, 
to  sell  stock  to  confiding  old  maids  and  widows  with  stories 
showing  how  a  five-dollar  investment  in  the  stock  would 
produce  millions,  and  having  got  their  money  to  skip.  I 
returned  to  New  York  depressed  by  my  failure  as  a  promo- 
ter, and  to  add  to  my  troubles  I  found  myself  getting  short 
of  funds  and  no  employment  in  sight. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 

Return  to  Tampico  and  get  shipwrecked  on  the  bar  —  A  squaw  man  who 
was  a  quack  doctor  —  Find  a  lake  of  asphalt  and  strike  oil  —  A  precarious 
ferry  —  111  with  fever  and  receive  a  matrimonial  proposal. 

My  experience  with  the  silver  mine  ought  to  have  taught 
me  that  rich  mines  and  asphalt  lakes  are  luxuries  only  for 
the  already  rich,  and  that  the  mines  of  Golconda  would  be 
absolutely  useless  to  a  man  without  capital  to  work  them. 
But  in  the  weary  weeks  I  spent  in  New  York  at  that  time  I 
could  not  get  the  idea  of  that  asphalt  lake  out  of  my  head, 
and  I  became  a  victim  to  one  idea  and  that  was  to  find  my 
vagabond  friend,  the  self-styled  "doctor,"  again. 

Unexpectedly  becoming  the  possessor  of  a  small  amount 
of  cash,  I  started  at  once  for  New  Orleans,  determined  to 
work  my  way  back  to  Tampico  from  that  city  if  my  money 
gave  out;  but  luck  was  again  with  me,  and  at  New  Orleans 
I  met  my  old  friend  Captain  Mcintosh,  who  commanded  a 
ship  bound  to  Mexico  and  making  Tampico  one  of  her  ports 
of  call.  Telling  my  friend  of  my  plight  he  kindly  offered  me 
a  free  passage  which  I  gratefully  accepted. 

During  the  Mexican  War  in  1846  several  vessels  were 
sunk  to  blockade  the  port  of  Tampico,  and  at  the  time  of 
which  I  write  a  bar  extended  across  the  entrance  with  so 
little  water  on  it  that  ships  had  to  lie  some  distance  out  and 
transfer  their  freight  to  lighters.  (The  bar  has  been  dredged 
in  recent  years.) 

With  some  difficulty,  on  account  of  a  northeaster  blowing, 
with  two  or  three  other  passengers  I  was  transferred  to  a 
ramshackle  steam  launch.  The  sea  was  running  quite  high, 
and  when  we  got  on  the  bar  the  little  craft  rose  on  the  crest 
of  a  high  curler  and  the  next  moment  her  bow  struck  the 
bottom  just  as  another  wave  capsized  her,  throwing  us  into 
the  sea.  Boats  put  out  from  the  ship,  and  amongst  others,  I 


An  Asphalt  Lake  411 

was  pulled  into  one  of  them,  but  several  Mexicans  who 
could  not  swim  were  drowned. 

From  Tampico  I  went  to  the  head  of  navigation  on  the 
Panuco  River  as  a  passenger  on  a  little  stern-wheel  steam- 
boat which  had  originally  plied  on  the  bayous  of  Louisiana. 
Landing  at  the  village,  I  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  my  rol- 
licking doctor,  who  was  delighted  to  see  me  again  and  in- 
sisted that  I  should  be  his  guest.  The  doctor  had,  years 
before  I  met  him,  married  (?)  an  Indian  woman.  He  was 
what  would  have  been  called  on  our  own  plains  a  "squaw 
man." 

The  question  now  arose  as  to  how  we  were  to  get  horses 
for  our  trip  to  the  asphalt  lake.  The  doctor  could  get  one, 
but  the  natives  did  not  seem  disposed  to  oblige  the  new 
Gringo.  The  doctor  got  around  the  situation  by  walking 
some  distance  to  the  house  of  a  patient  and  by  representing 
that  the  horse  he  had  borrowed  had  gone  lame  and  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  have  a  sound  one.  His  request  was 
granted,  and  mounted  on  the  new  animal  I  started  with 
only  the  doctor  for  a  guide,  and  very  soon  found  that  he 
had  never  been  to  the  lake  and  did  not  even  know  where  it 
was,  but  was  asking  information  from  every  native  we  met. 
It  was  in  the  rainy  season  and  sleeping  on  the  ground  was 
very  uncomfortable,  and  when  we  rolled  up  our  blankets  in 
the  morning,  preparatory  to  resuming  our  journey,  it  gave 
one  a  disagreeable  sensation  to  find  that  a  tarantula  or  a 
scorpion  had  crawled  under  it  for  the  warmth  and  been  a 
bedfellow  for  hours  probably. 

After  wandering  about  in  the  dense  forest,  in  what  began 
to  look  to  me  like  an  aimless  way,  we  suddenly  came  upon 
the  object  of  our  search.  The  asphalt  lake  appeared  to  be 
about  a  mile  long  and  several  hundred  yards  wide.  Its  sur- 
face was  hard  enough  to  bear  our  weight,  but  it  was  very 
sticky.  In  walking  along  its  banks  I  was  surprised  and  de- 
lighted to  find  crude  petroleum  trickling  through  the  crev- 
ices of  the  rocks.   Here  indeed  was  a  find !  Joyfully  I  filled 


412        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

one  of  the  doctor's  mescal  bottles  with  a  sample,  and  we  lost 
no  time  in  returning  to  the  doctor's  home,  and  from  thence 
I  went  to  Tampico  and  New  York,  via  New  Orleans. 

Arriving  in  New  York  I  at  once  informed  my  friends,  Mr. 
Clarence  Cary  and  Mr.  Frederick  W.  Whitridge,  of  what 
I  had  found,  and  they  engaged  Mr.  John  F.  Randolph, 
a  mining  expert,  to  return  to  Mexico  with  me  and  make  a 
report  upon  the  find,  as  well  as  to  file  claims  under  the 
Mexican  laws. 

We  lost  no  time  in  making  preparations  for  the  journey 
and  soon  arrived  at  Panuco,  where  we  had  no  difficulty  in 
getting  into  communication  with  the  doctor,  but  to  our 
dismay  we  found  it  impossible  to  get  horses  on  which  to 
continue  our  journey.  The  doctor  informed  us  that  there 
were  large  herds  of  horses  in  the  neighborhood,  and  that  it 
was  only  a  way  the  Mexicans  had  of  taking  their  time  when 
there  was  a  chance  to  sell  anything,  and  that  it  was  useless 
to  try  to  hurry  them :  if  we  would  take  it  easy  we  undoubt- 
edly would  get  the  animals  in  time,  so  we  hired  a  small 
vacant  adobe  house  and  proceeded  to  wait  —  wait.  The 
only  thing  that  would  stand  a  chance  of  winning  in  a  wait- 
ing contest  with  a  Mexican  would,  in  my  opinion,  be  the 
Washington  Monument. 

The  days  dragged  slowly  by  until  Mr.  Randolph  an- 
nounced that  his  business  at  home  would  not  permit  of  his 
remaining  any  longer  and  we  began  to  pack  up  our  things 
and  make  inquiry  about  a  boat  to  take  us  back  to  Tampico. 
The  next  morning  there  were  between  twenty  and  thirty 
horses  lined  up  in  front  of  our  house  waiting  for  a  purchaser, 
and  we  found  them  very  reasonable  in  price. 

Having  our  mounts  and  a  pack-horse,  with  the  doctor  as 
our  guide,  we  started  for  the  lake.  The  doctor  was  a  gay 
old  guide.  He  told  us  that  he  had  a  patient  who  would  give 
us  accommodation  for  the  night,  and  that  he  would  take  us 
to  the  house  by  a  short  cut  through  the  dense  forest.  Night 
came  on,  and  it  was  soon  evident  that  he  had  lost  his  bear- 


Prospecting  for  Oil  413 

ings.  Randolph  got  an  ugly  fall  into  a  mud  puddle  when 
his  horse  stumbled,  and  then  the  animal  ran  away,  which 
made  things  worse.  Next  the  doctor  was  dragged  from  his 
saddle  by  a  tangled  mass  of  vines  and  his  horse  also  escaped, 
leaving  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Randolph  to  proceed  on  foot, 
tripping  at  almost  every  step.  It  was  after  midnight,  and 
it  was  a  very  dark  night  too,  when  we  arrived  at  the  bamboo 
house,  only  to  find  that  the  owner  was  dying.  The  doctor 
alone  was  allowed  to  enter,  but  the  old  women  of  the  house- 
hold, with  their  faces  well  covered  by  their  rebozos  (shawls), 
supplied  us  with  much-needed  coffee  and  tortillas.  The 
horses  of  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Randolph  were  recovered  by 
peons  the  next  morning,  and  we  proceeded  to  a  river  which 
was  too  deep  to  ford.  The  doctor  went  some  distance  up 
the  stream  to  get  an  Indian  and  his  boat  to  ferry  us  across. 
The  boat,  a  canoe  made  out  of  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  was  very 
cranky,  and  when  we  had  put  our  traps  into  her  and  got  in 
ourselves  her  gunwales  were  not  more  than  three  inches  out 
of  the  water,  and  to  add  to  the  precariousness  of  the  situa- 
tion we  had  to  lead  four  horses  by  the  lassos  while  they 
swam  alongside  of  the  boat. 

We  arrived  at  the  lake  and  Mr.  Randolph  made  a  super- 
ficial survey  of  it  and  marked  out  some  claims  for  oil  wells, 
and  after  taking  more  samples  we  went  on  to  the  town  of 
Vanilla  and  the  doctor  returned  home  by  himself. 

Vanilla  is  the  great  market  of  Mexico  for  the  vanilla 
beans.  As  one  enters  the  town  the  odor  of  vanilla  is  so 
strong  that  the  atmosphere  is  impregnated  with  it,  and  no 
wonder,  as  the  streets  in  front  of  every  house  are  partially 
covered  with  blankets  on  which  the  beans  are  spread  to 
cure  before  being  shipped.  The  beans  are  brought  into 
town  by  the  Indians.  They  are  grown  in  the  forest,  where 
each  vine  has  a  tree  to  itself.  No  particular  tree  belongs  to 
any  individual  until  he  has  planted  his  vine  alongside  of  it. 
A  stranger  would  imagine  that  inextricable  confusion  as  to 
the  ownership  of  particular  vines  would  arise,  but  such  was 


414   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

not  the  case.  I  was  told  that  not  only  did  each  Indian 
remember  where  he  had  placed  his  seed,  but  that  no  alter- 
cations ever  arose  among  them  as  to  the  ownership  of  par- 
ticular vines.  In  Vanilla  we  learned  that  there  were  other 
parties  to  the  westward  who  were  prospecting  for  oil,  and  it 
was  decided  that  it  would  be  best  for  me  to  go  in  search  of 
them  and  find  out  what  they  were  doing,  and  then  to  return 
to  Tampico  to  attend  to  some  business  there  in  connection 
with  the  claims. 

It  was  a  long  and  lonesome  ride  over  a  trail  I  had  never 
been  over  before  —  I  was  unaccompanied  even  by  a  mozo. 
I  found  the  oil  men,  and  they  showed  me  a  spot  where  they 
had  sunk  a  shallow  well  and  struck  oil  a  few  feet  below  the 
surface.  There  was  no  way  at  that  time  of  marketing  the 
stuff.   It  was  flowing  over  the  ground  and  going  to  waste. 

Proceeding  on  my  way,  I  was  soon  attacked  by  the  form 
of  malaria  common  in  the  tierra  caliente,  and  was  com- 
pelled to  stop  at  a  small  settlement  whose  head  man  was  a 
Mexican  of  rather  light  color.  For  a  consideration  he  hos- 
pitably consented  to  furnish  food  for  my  horse  and  myself 
and  also  permit  me  to  sleep  on  the  bamboo  poles  which 
formed  the  bunks  in  the  usual  thatched  shed  some  little 
distance  from  his  house,  and  there  I  lay  tossing  with  fever 
for  I  do  not  know  how  many  days;  my  host  afterwards  told 
me  I  had  been  delirious. 

It  was  while  lying  in  my  bunk  after  I  regained  my  senses 
that  I  witnessed  a  very  interesting  festival.  All  children  in 
Mexico  are  named  after  the  saint  on  whose  day  they  are 
born.  Those  born  on  Christmas  are  named  Jesus,  and  when 
a  male  child  is  born  on  a  day  which  has  been  set  apart  for  a 
lady  saint,  the  poor  little  fellow  is  christened  Mary,  Magda- 
len, Dorothy,  or  whatever  other  girl  name  the  saint  bore 
whose  feast-day  it  happened  to  be. 

The  day  I  refer  to  was  the  birthday  of  the  sole  child  of  the 
head  man.  There  were  thirty  or  forty  men  and  women,  the 
latter,  of  course,  wearing  their  rebozos  over  their  heads 


A  Mexican  Fiesta  415 

and  a  part  of  their  faces.  They  seated  themselves  on  the 
bare  ground  in  a  semicircle,  a  few  yards  from  where  I  lay, 
and  opposite  them,  seated  on  rustic  chairs,  were  two  musi- 
cians who  played,  one  on  a  small  and  the  other  upon  a  huge 
guitar,  the  largest  I  had  ever  seen. 

The  daughter  of  the  house,  accompanied  by  her  father, 
soon  made  her  appearance,  and  in  a  most  staid  and  solemn 
manner  took  up  a  position  in  the  centre  of  the  circle  and 
commenced  dancing  for  the  entertainment  of  her  guests. 
The  girl  was  of  an  unusually  light  complexion:  she  was  tall 
and  handsome  and  the  undulating  motions  of  her  lissome 
body  reminded  me  of  the  movements  of  a  leopard.  Her 
great  bright  black  eyes  would  blaze  with  light  one  moment 
and  the  next  soften  and  languish  according  to  whether  the 
music  was  fast  or  slow.  Her  jet-black  hair  hung  down  her 
back  in  two  large  plaits  which  reached  to  her  knees.  Her 
dress  was  made  of  calico  of  a  brilliant  red  hue,  and  I  thought 
it  rather  immodestly  short  for  a  Mexican  woman,  as  it 
barely  reached  to  her  instep. 

Her  dancing  reminded  me  of  Egyptian  dancing,  as  it  con- 
sisted mostly  in  movements  of  the  hips,  and  the  bare  feet, 
barely  lifted  from  the  ground,  seemed  only  used  to  turn 
her  around  and  around  in  unison  with  the  slow  music. 

The  fiesta  commenced  in  the  afternoon.  There  were  inter- 
missions in  the  dancing  for  refreshments  consisting  of  coffee 
and  native  beer,  after  which  the  dancing  was  continued 
far  into  the  night.  I  was  surprised  to  see  that  none  of  the 
young  men  sought  to  dance  with  the  girl,  but  suppose  that 
it  would  not  have  been  in  good  form  for  them  to  offer  to  do 
so  on  such  an  occasion. 

Despite  my  diet  of  tough  beef,  fried,  of  course,  and  all  on 
fire  with  hot  chile  pepper,  I  commenced  to  get  better,  and 
my  lonesomeness  made  me  all  the  more  anxious  to  be  on 
my  way  again.  I  had  never  seen  the  daughter  of  the  house 
except  on  the  occasion  of  the  fiesta,  and  of  course  I  had 
never  spoken  to  her.   Judge  of  my  surprise  when  one  day 


4i 6   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

her  father  joined  me  and  said  that  he  wanted  to  have  a  talk 
with  me.  I  naturally  told  him  to  go  ahead,  and  to  my  great 
amazement  he  made  me  a  financial  statement  of  his  assets 
consisting  of  his  home,  land,  cattle,  horses,  and  goats.  I 
could  not  think  what  he  was  driving  at  until  he  told  me  that 
the  girl  I  had  seen  dancing  was  the  idol  of  his  heart  and  that 
his  only  object  in  life  was  her  welfare  and  happiness.  He 
went  on  to  say  that  Mexicans  made  very  bad  and  selfish 
husbands,  and  that  he  had  always  heard  that  the  Americans 
were  the  kindest  husbands  in  the  world,  and  for  that  reason 
he  wanted  her  to  marry  one.  He  also  told  me  that  he  was 
very  anxious  to  have  her  marry  at  once,  as  he  suspected 
that  she  was  already  favorably  inclined  toward  a  worthless 
young  Mexican  who  he  was  afraid  would  carry  her  off  some 
day.  He  wound  up  his  tale  of  romance  by  saying  that  he 
had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  me,  and  if  I  would  become  his 
son-in-law  he  would  take  me  into  partnership  immediately, 
and  eventually  leave  me  all  his  property  when  he  died. 

Naturally  I  was  very  much  astounded  by  the  proposition, 
and  must  confess  that  I  was  somewhat  worried,  as  I  was 
entirely  in  the  power  of  this  man  and  did  not  even  have  my 
horse  to  get  away  on,  as  the  poor  brute  was  being  pastured 
some  miles  away  from  the  settlement.  It  was  a  difficult 
situation  for  me,  as  I  wished,  at  all  costs  save  one,  to  avoid 
offending  him  or  arousing  his  ire.  In  as  kindly  and  sympa- 
thetic a  way  as  possible  I  suggested  that  the  young  lady 
might  object,  as  I  had  never  had  the  honor  of  exchanging  a 
word  with  her,  but  he  brushed  the  idea  aside  by  informing 
me  that  the  girl  had  nothing  to  say  about  it,  and  that  she 
would  marry  the  man  he  chose  to  select  for  her.  Things 
were  getting  to  be  serious,  so  I  mustered  up  sufficient  cour- 
age to  tell  him  that  there  were  insurmountable  difficulties 
in  the  way  of  the  alliance  he  seemed  disposed  to  honor  me 
with,  and  that  while  I  fully  appreciated  the  compliment,  it 
was  impossible  for  me  to  conform  to  his  wishes,  as  it  was  a 
matter  of  great  importance  that  I  should  return  to  the 


Return  to  the  States  417 

United  States  immediately,  and  if  I  took  his  daughter  with 
me,  she,  not  being  able  to  speak  English,  would  naturally  be 
dreadfully  lonely,  homesick,  and  unhappy.  I  omitted  to  say 
anything  about  hotels  being  indisposed  to  accommodate 
us  on  account  of  her  color.  But  such  arguments  as  I  used 
seemed  to  carry  weight  with  the  old  fellow,  and  the  next 
day  my  horse  arrived  and  we  parted  most  amicably.  This 
was  the  only  time  in  my  life  I  was  ever  proposed  to  —  or 
for. 

Being  very  weak  and  having  to  sleep  on  the  ground  in  my 
wet  clothes  (it  was  the  rainy  season),  the  fever  came  on 
again,  and  my  body  was  racked  with  pain  while  traversing 
the  weary,  lonely  miles  until  I  arrived  at  Panuco,  where  I 
found  my  friend  the  doctor,  who  administered  some  pills, 
after  taking  which  I  entirely  collapsed.  When  I  again 
became  convalescent,  the  doctor  boasted  that  he  had  ad- 
ministered thirty  grains  of  calomel  to  me  in  one  dose! 

Bidding  the  doctor  farewell  forever,  I  proceeded  once 
more  to  Tampico  to  take  ship  for  the  States.  I  was  fortu- 
nate enough  to  be  in  time  to  catch  the  steamer  Mexico 
commanded  by  my  old  friend  Captain  Mcintosh,  who, 
when  I  boarded  the  ship  as  she  lay  off  the  bar,  expressed 
himself  as  being  shocked  at  my  wretched  appearance. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

Not  even  any  money  in  oil,  when  I  am  interested  —  President  Gonzalez 
and  General  Porfirio  Diaz  —  Collapse  of  oil  scheme  —  Encounter  General 
Charles  P.  Stone  by  accident  and  get  employment  —  The  Statue  of  Liberty 
—  Swept  to  sea  by  harbor  ice  —  Meet  an  old  foe  —  Laying  a  corner-stone  — 
General  Winfield  S.  Hancock  —  Lecture  my  superior  officer  —  I  am  appointed 
Consul-General  to  Australasia. 

Arriving  in  New  York  I  spent  my  days  building  castles 
in  the  air  whose  only  foundations  were  my  wild  speculations 
as  to  the. amount  of  wealth  the  oil  fields  in  Mexico  were 
going  to  bring  me.  But  wiser  and  cooler  heads  saw  the 
danger  of  investing  good  money  in  our  sister  (?)  republic. 

President  Gonzalez,  who  had  been  pitchforked  into  the 
position  of  President  by  Porfirio  Diaz  because  the  Mexican 
constitution  at  that  time  did  not  permit  of  a  Mexican  Presi- 
dent succeeding  himself,  was  a  one-armed  man.  He  had  lost 
a  hand  while  serving  under  Diaz  in  one  of  the  latter's  many 
campaigns,  and  Diaz,  while  expressing  the  greatest  con- 
fidence in  him,  took  the  precaution  of  having  himself  ap- 
pointed as  Minister  of  War  so  that  he  could  retain  control 
of  the  army. 

Gonzalez  was  a  diseased  man,  and  it  was  necessary  to 
have  his  arm  repeatedly  amputated  on  account  of  the  cica- 
trix never  properly  healing,  and  when  it  sloughed  away 
there  was  danger  of  his  bleeding  to  death  through  the  ex- 
posed arteries.  Everybody  felt  sure  that  there  would  be  a 
revolution  when  he  passed  away.  His  arm  finally  was  cut 
off  so  near  the  shoulder  that  there  was  no  chance  of  a  fur- 
ther amputation,  and  every  time  there  was  a  rumor  that 
the  President  was  ill,  Mexico  trembled  with  fear,  and  foreign 
investors  buttoned  up  their  pockets  when  Mexican  specu- 
lation was  mentioned.  The  time  allowed  by  law  for  us  to  do 
a  certain  amount  of  work  on  our  claims  passed,  and  they 


Collapse  of  the  Oil  Scheme  419 

lapsed.  I  found  myself  poorer  than  when  I  had  first  gone 
to  Mexico. 

It  might  be  interesting  to  mention  that  the  constitution 
of  Mexico  at  that  time  provided  that  in  case  of  the  death  of 
the  President  he  should  be  succeeded  by  the  Chief  Justice, 
but  when  it  became  known  that  Gonzalez's  life  was  in  grave 
danger,  Congress  hastily  amended  the  law  and  conferred 
the  succession  on  the  President  of  the  Senate,  Mr.  Rubio, 
and  very  shortly  after  the  law  was  passed,  Porfirio  Diaz, 
then  a  man  about  forty-five  years  of  age,  married  the 
daughter  of  the  President  of  the  Senate,  Sefiorita  Carmen 
Rubio,  a  girl  between  fifteen  and  sixteen  years  of  age,  and 
I  must  say  the  most  beautiful  girl,  of  the  upper  class, 
that  I  saw  during  my  travels  in  that  country. 

The  oil  field  which  we  had  located  passed  into  the  hands 
of  great  corporations  who  bitterly  fought  over  the  claims, 
and  when  they  were  not  fighting  each  other,  the  Mexican 
revolutionists  broke  the  monotony  by  raiding  the  property, 
levying  forced  loans,  and  occasionally  killing  a  few  em- 
ployees. 

After  my  hopes  for  the  success  of  the  oil  enterprise  were 
blasted,  I  remained  in  New  York  City  because  there  was 
as  good  a  chance  of  my  getting  employment  there  as  there 
was  in  any  other  place,  and  besides,  while  New  York  is  no 
place  for  people  of  moderate  means  to  live  in,  it  is  the  very 
best  town  in  the  world  for  the  very  rich  and  the  very  poor. 
The  rich  can  find  every  pleasure,  and  the  poor  can  live 
there  better  on  less  money  than  they  can  in  any  other  place. 

I  was  disconsolately  walking  on  Broadway  one  day,  after 
having  failed  to  get  employment,  when  in  front  of  old  Trin- 
ity Church  a  man  threw  his  arms  suddenly  around  me  in  a 
most  demonstrative  manner  while  assuring  me  that  he  was 
delighted  to  see  me  again.  The  man  was  General  Charles  P. 
Stone,  under  whom  I  had  served  in  Egypt.  One  of  the  first 
things  the  general  said  to  me  was  that  he  hoped  I  was  at 
leisure  and  not  in  any  employment,  and  I  told  him  that  was 


420   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

very  unkind,  as  I  needed  work  badly  and  was  sorely  pressed 
for  money  —  small  as  my  expenses  were.  The  general  re- 
plied that  I  was  just  the  man  he  wanted,  as  he  had  a  place 
for  me  on  Bedloe's  Island  where  he  was  the  engineer  who 
was  to  erect  the  "Statue  of  Liberty."  Naturally  I  jumped 
at  the  chance. 

Bedloe's  Island  was  the  scene  of  the  hanging  of  the  last 
real  deep-sea  pirate  executed  in  the  United  States,  as  Gen- 
eral Stone  frequently  facetiously  reminded  me  by  saying 
that  if  the  Georgia  had  been  captured  during  the  Civil  War 
I  might  have  occupied  a  very  high  position  on  Bedloe's 
Island.  The  quarters  for  the  small  number  of  troops  neces- 
sary to  garrison  the  little  fort  were  frame  buildings  and 
were  then  used  for  offices.  As  I  had  no  place  to  live  on  the 
island  I  slept  at  my  lodgings  in  the  city,  which  necessi- 
tated my  being  at  the  barge  office  on  the  Battery  every 
morning  at  five  o'clock  to  take  a  small  steam  launch  for 
the  island.  At  that  time  there  was  no  other  way  of  getting 
there.  The  launch  was  old  and  the  engine  was  feeble  and 
rickety.  The  winter  of  1884-85  was  cold,  and  at  times  much 
ice  formed  in  the  harbor.  One  dark  and  foggy  morning  the 
launch  broke  down  when  we  were  about  halfway  to  the  is- 
land. The  tide  was  swiftly  running  out.  An  ice  field  quickly 
imprisoned  us  and  we  were  carried  nearly  to  Sandy  Hook. 
None  of  the  vessels  —  which  we  could  hear  but  could  not 
see  —  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  the  feeble  squeal  of 
our  toy  whistle.  The  day  was  waning  and  the  prospect 
of  passing  the  night  out  on  the  broad  Atlantic  in  that  little 
unseaworthy  craft  was  not  pleasant,  especially  as  the  wind 
was  rising.  Just  as  night  was  coming  on,  however,  a  Good 
Samaritan  in  the  guise  of  a  tugboat  heard  our  shouts  and 
came  to  our  assistance,  but  before  passing  a  line  to  us  de- 
manded and  received  ten  dollars  for  towing  us  back  to  the 
city.  We  had  been  all  day  without  either  food  or  water  and 
arrived  at  the  barge  office  after  ten  o'clock  that  night. 

Major  Kennish,  who  had  been  on  the  staff  of  General 


Corner-Stone  for  the  Statue  of  Liberty'  421 

Butler  during  the  time  the  Dutch  Gap  Canal  was  being 
cut,  had  charge  of  the  concrete  work  for  the  foundation  and 
pedestal  on  which  the  statue  was  to  stand.  He  became 
greatly  interested  when  he  learned  that  I  had  been  engaged 
in  throwing  shells  at  him  for  seven  months  during  the  latter 
part  of  the  war,  and  when  I  made  a  boast  about  pointing  a 
rifled  gun  on  one  occasion  and  knocking  a  timber  out  of  the 
wooden  tower  General  Butler  had  erected  near  the  canal, 
and  went  on  to  give  a  ludicrous  description  of  how  two  men 
engaged  in  looking  through  a  telescope  came  scrambling  to 
the  ground,  Major  Kennish  said  he  had  good  cause  to  re- 
member the  incident,  for  the  reason  that  one  of  the  men  was 
General  Butler  and  the  other  was  himself. 

Outside  of  having  to  catch  the  five-o'clock  boat  every 
morning  my  duties  on  the  island  were  not  very  onerous. 
General  Stone  knew  my  limitations,  and  was  very  consider- 
ate. I  thoroughly  enjoyed  seeing  the  scientific  work  and  the 
foundation  and  pedestal  grow.  The  stormy  day  on  which 
the  corner-stone  was  laid  I  shall  never  forget.  I  was  as 
proud  as  though  the  completion  of  the  work  was  due  to  my 
individual  efforts. 

On  the  great  day,  when  the  hour  for  the  ceremonial  ar- 
rived, it  rained  in  torrents,  driving  General  Stone  and  the 
reception  committee  to  shelter.  The  boat  bearing  Major- 
General  Winfield  S.  Hancock,  who  was  to  lay  the  stone,  was 
expected  every  minute,  and  as  I  knew  the  general  well  per- 
sonally, General  Stone  suggested  that  I  should  wait  on  the 
dock  and  receive  him.  The  rain  let  up  just  in  time,  and  the 
function  went  through  without  a  hitch.  Photographs  and 
visiting  cards,  my  own  among  the  number,  were  placed  in 
the  niche  along  with  coins,  newspapers,  etc.,  and  unless  that 
pedestal  is  used  in  the  future  to  sustain  something  besides 
that  old  sheet-iron  effigy,  which  was  originally  designed  for 
a  statue  of  victory,  that  receptacle  will  probably  be  opened 
during  the  lifetime  of  people  now  of  middle  age,  owing  to 
the  fact  that  the  Goddess  of  Liberty  has  been  so  rust-eaten 


422   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

from  the  elements  already  that  Anthony  Comstock's  society 
will  soon  make  it  a  sine  qua  non  that  she  either  get  new- 
clothes  or  go  into  seclusion. 

It  was  Rochefoucauld,  I  believe,  who  in  a  cynical  mood 
once  said:  "We  even  take  a  certain  amount  of  pleasure  in 
the  very  misfortunes  of  our  friends."  This  was  certainly  the 
case  with  me  when  one  day  there  was  an  awful  row,  on  the 
parapet  of  the  fort,  between  General  Stone  and  the  gifted 
artist-author-contractor,  F.  Hopkinson  Smith,  whose  offi- 
cial position  I  never  could  quite  define;  but  he  was  either 
interested  in  the  contracts  or  else  represented  the  society 
which  raised  the  money  to  erect  the  statue.  When  the  quar- 
rel was  at  its  height  General  Stone  called  me  and  asked  if  I 
would  be  the  bearer  of  a  challenge  for  him,  and  of  course  I 
said,  "Yes,  with  pleasure."  As  the  verbal  quarrel  was  about 
to  be  renewed,  I  interposed  by  telling  the  general  that  under 
the  code  no  further  interchange  of  harsh  words  were  per- 
mitted after  calling  in  the  services  of  a  second,  and  then 
I  carried  him  off  triumphantly  for  a  private  consultation. 
After  the  two  gentlemen  had  had  time  to  cool  off,  I  settled 
the  matter  amicably,  but  oh,  was  n't  it  nuts  to  crack  —  for 
me!  On  several  occasions  in  my  life  I  had  had  to  stand  at 
attention  in  the  presence  of  the  chief-of-staff  of  the  Egyp- 
tian Army  while  he  lectured  me  on  the  subject  of  losing  my 
temper  too  quickly,  and  now  it  was  my  opportunity  to  do  a 
little  lecturing  on  the  same  subject  myself.  I  talked  to  him 
like  a  father,  more  in  sorrow  than  actual  reproof,  until  the 
general  burst  into  laughter  at  the  idea,  and  told  me  to  "go 
to  the  devil"  and  settle  the  matter  in  any  way  I  chose. 

It  was  while  I  was  employed  on  Bedloe's  Island  that  the 
great  function  of  the  opening  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge  to  traf- 
fic took  place.  I  was  fortunate  in  that  friends  secured  for 
me  an  invitation  to  be  present  and  the  party  I  was  with  had 
seats  near  the  President.  Mr.  Cleveland,  then  Governor 
of  New  York,  and  many  of  the  state  officials  occupied  seats 
in  a  stand  just  opposite.  I  must  confess  that  the  huge  form 


Opening  of  Brooklyn  Bridge  423 

of  Mr.  Cleveland  did  not  appear  to  advantage  when  con- 
trasted with  the  symmetrical,  well-dressed,  and  elegant 
figure  of  President  Arthur.  But  looks  do  not  amount  to 
much  when  history  is  written,  and  Mr.  Cleveland's  Admin- 
istration will  be  long  remembered  after  that  of  Mr.  Arthur 
has  been  forgotten. 

While  I  watched  the  President  that  was,  and  the  Presi- 
dent that  was  to  be,  I  found  myself  wondering  if  they  ever 
acknowledged  to  themselves  that  "luck"  had  played  any 
part  in  elevating  them  to  the  proud  positions  they  occupied 
in  the  nation,  or  if  they  attributed  their  success  to  their 
own  superior  abilities  and  energy,  as  in  my  experience  in 
life  I  had  never  met  a  successful  man  who  was  willing 
to  acknowledge  any  obligation  to  dame  Fortune.  A  little 
perfunctory  recognition  of  the  slight  assistance  rendered 
him  by  Divine  Providence  is  grudgingly  vouchsafed  by 
the  average  man  after  once  achieving  success,  because  that 
is  good  form;  but  that  is  all,  despite  the  fact  that  the  world 
around  him  is  filled  with  human  derelicts,  men  of  great 
mental  powers  as  well  as  physical  energy,  who  have  labored 
through  the  years  without  attaining  success.  In  my  wan- 
derings over  the  world  I  have  met  many  favored  mortals, 
but  I  have  never  yet  seen  one  of  them  who  could  be  made 
to  understand  that  it  might  not  be  entirely  a  man's  own 
fault  if  he  failed  to  accumulate  wealth. 

The  work  on  the  pedestal  was  nearing  completion,  and 
where  the  winds  of  Fate  would  waft  me  next  was  a  matter 
over  which  I  had  no  control  —  and  consequently  was  none  of 
my  affair.  It  was  while  thoughts  such  as  these  were  running 
through  my  head  I  received  a  telegram  which  gave  me  the 
surprise  of  my  life.  It  read:  "You  have  been  appointed 
consul-general  to  Australasia.  Come  to  Washington  and  file 
a  bond."  And  it  was  signed,  "F.  W.  Dawson." 


CHAPTER  L 

My  appointment  as  consul-general  arouses  great  indignation  among  South- 
ern office-seekers  —  Mr.  Cleveland  said  he  never  would  have  appointed  me  had 
he  known  I  was  a  "pirate"  —  Torpedo,  in  the  shape  of  a  pamphlet,  comes  near 
blowing  up  my  prospects  —  Mr.  Secretary  Bayard  gets  angry  —  Mr.  Cleve- 
land brushes  the  matter  aside  and  wishes  me  bon  voyage  —  Get  married  and 
start  for  San  Francisco  —  Mr.  Bayard  recalls  me  to  Washington  by  telegram 
—  I  sail  for  Australia  —  Seventh-Day  Adventists  indignant  when  Captain 
skips  Saturday  at  the  one  hundred  and  eightieth  meridian. 

Grover  Cleveland  had  been  inaugurated  as  President 
on  the  4th  of  March,  1885,  and  it  was  early  in  April  when 
I  started  for  Washington  to  get  my  instructions  from  the 
State  Department  before  departing  for  my  new  post. 

Friends  volunteered  to  go  on  my  bond.  I  called  on  the 
President  and  Mr.  Bayard,  the  Secretary  of  State,  both  of 
whom  received  me  most  cordially  and  congratulated  me 
on  my  appointment.  And  then  suddenly  to  my  amazement 
I  found  myself  the  centre  of  quite  a  storm. 

It  had  been  many  a  year  since  the  Democrats  had  had 
any  patronage  to  distribute,  and  Washington  had  been  in- 
vaded by  an  army  of  office-seekers,  principally  from  the 
South,  who,  like  the  fastidious  Kentuckian,  "wanted  a  little 
sugar  in  theirs."  The  newspapers — Democratic  ones  — 
criticized  my  appointment  adversely,  while  politicians  pro- 
tested against  it  personally.  The  applicants  from  South 
Carolina  thought  that  they  were  being  robbed  of  a  choice 
bit  of  patronage  which  belonged  by  right  to  them,  and 
harped  upon  the  fact  that  I  had  not  been  born  in  the  State, 
but  I  comforted  myself  with  the  knowledge  that  if  that 
lot  ever  learned  that  Nazareth  was  situated  beyond  their 
boundary  lines,  there  would  not  be  left  a  Christian  among 
them  in  a  week.  Of  course  some  of  the  carpetbaggers  had  a 
shy  at  me,  but  much  worse  than  that,  Southern  men  who 
had  never  met  me,  who  probably  had  never  heard  my  name 
before,  joined  in  the  hue  and  cry  against  my  appointment. 


Consul-General  to  Australasia  425 

Mr.  Tillman,  afterwards  Senator,  was  quoted  in  one  of  the 
newspapers  as  saying  that  I  had  been  a  participant  in  one 
of  the  most  disgraceful  tragedies  that  had  ever  occurred  in 
South  Carolina.  The  remark  was  so  worded  that  it  left  the 
reader  in  doubt  as  to  whether  it  was  Captain  Tupper  or 
myself  who  had  killed  Caldwell.  Possibly  the  fact  that 
while  Dawson  lived  he  never  let  Tillman's  head  rise  much 
above  the  surface  of  the  political  whirlpool  without  ducking 
him,  may  have  somewhat  influenced  the  latter's  opinion  of 
myself.  Senators  Hampton  and  Butler,  of  South  Carolina, 
were  the  recipients  of  an  avalanche  of  indignant  protests 
(from  people  who  wanted  the  place  for  themselves  or  their 
friends) ,  although  neither  of  the  Senators  had  had  anything 
to  do  with  getting  me  the  plum.  Things  became  so  warm 
for  them  that  Mr.  Cleveland  came  to  their  rescue,  like  the 
brave  man  he  was,  and  announced  that  the  appointment 
was  entirely  a  personal  one  of  his  own,  and  that  he  wanted 
placed  before  him  by  reputable  parties  some  distinct 
charges  against  me  before  he  would  rescind  it.  The  only 
charge  submitted  was  that  I  had  been  an  officer  of  the 
United  States  Navy  and  had  resigned  and  served  in  the 
Confederacy,  and  that  awful  accusation  was  made  by  a 
Southern  man!  It  is  a  good  joke  on  my  self-elected  enemies 
that  none  of  them  knew  enough  about  my  past  life  to  make 
the  charge  that  I  had  served  on  board  of  a  Confederate 
cruiser  engaged  in  burning  American  ships  on  the  high  seas, 
for  that  would  most  certainly  have  ended  my  aspirations, 
as  Mr.  Cleveland  afterwards  told  my  brother-in-law,  Cap- 
tain Dawson,  that  had  he  known  I  was  on  the  Georgia  he 
never  would  have  made  the  appointment. 

The  mystery  of  my  appointment  ought  to  have  been  a 
very  simple  one  to  professional  politicians.  The  solution  of 
it  is  as  follows :  Dawson  was  the  editor  of  the  most  powerful 
Democratic  newspaper  in  the  South  at  that  time;  he  was 
a  member  of  the  National  Democratic  Committee,  and 
had  been  a  delegate  to  the  convention  which  nominated 


426   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Mr.  Cleveland.  Senator  Hampton  was  strongly  in  favor  of 
the  nomination  of  Mr.  Bayard,  but  Dawson  beat  him  for  the 
chairmanship  of  the  South  Carolina  delegation  and  induced 
its  members  to  authorize  him  to  cast  the  solid  vote.  When 
noses  were  counted  in  the  convention  it  was  discovered  that 
the  South  Carolina  delegation  had  just  the  required  number 
of  votes  to  make  the  selection  of  Mr.  Cleveland  certain. 
Dawson  cast  them  for  Mr.  Cleveland. 

Several  weeks  after  Mr.  Cleveland  had  assumed  the 
Presidency,  Captain  Dawson  called  at  the  White  House  to 
pay  his  respects,  and  as  he  entered  the  President's  presence 
the  latter,  who  was  in  a  jolly  mood,  laughingly  said:  "I 
know  all  about  what  you  did  for  me,  Captain  Dawson,  but 
you  must  remember  that  there  are  others  —  don't  claim 
everything."  Dawson,  in  the  same  bantering  spirit,  replied: 
"Mr.  President,  if  you  will  appoint  my  brother-in-law  as 
consul-general  to  Australasia,  I  will  promise  you  not  to  ask 
another  favor  during  your  administration."  Mr.  Cleveland, 
still  laughing,  replied:  "Your  brother-in-law  is  appointed. 
What  is  his  name?"  It  was  immediately  after  this  conver- 
sation that  I  received  the  telegram  informing  me  of  my 
appointment. 

When  Mr.  Cleveland  was  informed  that  I  was  a  little 
fifteen-year-old  midshipman  at  Annapolis  when  the  war 
began,  he  brushed  aside  the  charge,  that  I  was  an  officer  of 
the  navy  who  had  resigned  to  fight  against  the  flag,  as  un- 
worthy of  serious  consideration.  But  my  troubles  were  not 
yet  over. 

In  an  unlucky  moment,  tempted  by  the  desire  to  make 
a  few  dollars,  I  had  written  an  article  calling  attention  to 
the  remarkable  resemblance  between  the  lower  classes  of 
Egyptians  and  Mexicans  in  appearance,  customs,  and  man- 
ners. That  was  harmless  enough :  but  unfortunately  I  had 
told  of  some  outrages  perpetrated  on  Americans  while  I  was 
in  Mexico,  and  how  they  had  been  stopped  by  the  firmness 
of  Mr.  Blaine  when  he  became  Secretary  of  State,  and  I  also 


Secretary  Bayard  in  a  Temper  427 

had  said  some  very  complimentary  things  about  the  ex- 
Secretary,  winding  up  with  the  statement  that  "with  such 
a  man  at  the  helm  there  never  would  be  any  more  cold- 
blooded murders  in  the  despotism  known  as  the  Republic 
of  Mexico." 

Some  one  of  my  many  evil-wishers  in  some  way  got  hold 
of  the  pamphlet  and  carried  it  to  Mr.  Bayard.  Mr.  Bayard 
immediately  sent  for  me,  and  for  reasons  of  his  own  also 
sent  for  Senator  M.  C.  Butler.  When  we  entered  the  Secre- 
tary's office  it  was  evident  that  he  was  livid  with  rage.  In 
his  left  hand  he  held  the  pamphlet,  while  with  his  right  he 
pointed  at  it  with  a  trembling  finger  while  he  demanded  to 
know  if  I  was  the  author.  I  told  him  I  was,  whereupon  he 
flew  into  such  a  paroxysm  of  temper  that  I  feared  he  would 
break  a  blood  vessel.  He  grabbed  a  handful  of  papers  which 
were  lying  on  his  desk,  tore  them,  and  threw  them  on  the 
floor,  and  then  stamped  on  them,  while  from  his  mouth  he 
poured  forth  a  torrent  of  abuse,  until  General  Butler  arose 
and  in  a  very  dignified  manner  said,  in  those  quiet  tones  of 
his  which  his  intimates  knew  were  a  danger  signal:  "Mr. 
Secretary,  you  must  remember  that  I  am  a  United  States 
Senator!"  Mr.  Bayard,  his  voice  almost  choked  with  emo- 
tion, replied:  "I  am  not  talking  to  you,  Senator;  I  am  talk- 
ing to  this  man,"  pointing  at  me;  and  then  he  fairly  wailed: 
"The  President  does  not  know  of  this!  The  President  does 
not  know  of  this!" 

I  turned  to  Senator  Butler  and  said:  "I  am  not  going  to 
remain  here  to  be  insulted  in  this  way."  And  taking  no  fur- 
ther notice  of  the  Secretary,  I  walked  out  of  his  office  and 
returned  to  my  hotel,  where  half  an  hour  later  I  received  a 
summons  to  the  White  House.  I  felt  that  my  sentence  was 
about  to  be  pronounced,  and  to  say  that  I  was  very  un- 
happy but  mildly  describes  my  feelings. 

When  I  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  the  President,  he 
was  alone.  In  his  hand  he  held  a  copy  of  that  infernal  little 
pamphlet.    He  was  standing,  and  his  huge  figure  looked 


428   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

bigger  than  ever  to  me.  As  I  advanced  toward  him  he  ap- 
peared to  be  frowning  (which  was  not  a  good  augury  to  me). 
He  opened  the  interview  by  saying:  "Mr.  Morgan,  do  you 
really  believe  Mr.  Blaine  to  be  as  able  a  man  as  you  de- 
scribe him  in  this  article?  "  I  replied :  "  I  most  assuredly  do, 
sir."  Mr.  Cleveland's  eyes  twinkled  and  a  humorous  smile 
passed  over  his  face  as  he  said :  "  I  am  very  glad  to  hear  you 
say  so,  for  if  you  did  not  regard  Mr.  Blaine  as  an  able  man 
I  am  doubtful  if  you  would  have  the  capacity  to  fill  the  im- 
portant position  I  am  sending  you  to.  I  wish  you  a  pleasant 
voyage.   Good-bye ! ' ' 

I  was  fairly  dazed  by  this  unexpected  turn  in  my  affairs, 
for  after  my  unpleasant  interview  with  Mr.  Bayard  I  had 
regarded  the  matter  of  my  appointment  as  having  been 
settled  adversely  to  my  hopes.  How  I  got  out  of  the  White 
House  I  do  not  know,  but  when  I  came  to  my  senses  I  was 
out  in  the  grounds  hurrying  as  fast  as  I  could  to  tell  Senator 
Butler  of  my  wonderful  interview  with  the  President. 

That  night  I  went  to  New  York  and  a  few  days  after  my 
arrival  I  married  Miss  Frances  A.  Fincke,  a  daughter  of 
Judge  Charles  Fincke,  of  New  York,  and  we  started  for  San 
Francisco,  at  which  city  we  arrived  safely  without  further 
adventure. 

In  San  Francisco  I  met  several  old  friends  and  shipmates 
who  were  more  than  kind.  There  was  Dick  Floyd  who  had 
served  in  the  C.S.  cruiser  Florida.  I  also  met  the  Reverend 
Mr.  Foute,  an  Episcopal  clergyman  and  the  rector  of  a  very 
fashionable  church ;  he  was  a  most  dignified  dignitary  of  the 
Church.  The  last  time  I  had  seen  Foute  was  some  twenty 
years  previously  when  he  was  a  midshipman  in  the  Con- 
federate Navy  waiting  in  Paris  for  a  Confederate  cruiser 
which  never  materialized.  If  my  memory  serves  me  cor- 
rectly, at  that  time  the  clerical  gentleman  (that  was  to  be) 
was  about  as  wild  as  an  "  unbusted  "  bronco,  and  as  apt  to 
kick  over  the  traces.  Foute  had  been  on  board  the  Merri- 
mac  in  the  great  fights  in  Hampton  Roads,  and  in  those 


Old  Friends  in  San  Francisco  429 

days  would  have  welcomed  a  fight  with  a  circular  saw.  I 
also  met  Frank  Roby,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  gallant  of 
the  young  naval  officers  of  the  Confederacy,  with  whom 
I  had  served  on  the  Mississippi  River  in  1861-62. 

One  day  a  police  officer  came  to  me:  he  turned  out  to 
be  an  old  shipmate,  having  been  a  quartermaster  on  board 
the  McRae  when  I  joined  that  vessel  at  the  commencement 
of  the  war.  Forgetting  the  dignity  of  my  position  and  pos- 
sibly having  some  recollections  of  his  own  concerning  my 
midshipman  days,  he  very  unnecessarily  intimated  that  I 
could  paint  the  town  any  shade  of  red  I  preferred  without 
the  least  fear  that  the  police  would  notice  the  change  of  hue. 

The  day  before  that  appointed  for  our  departure  quite  a 
good-sized  bombshell  was  dropped  into  our  camp  in  the 
shape  of  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Bayard.  The  message  was 
short  and  to  the  point;  it  said:  "Return  to  Washington. 
The  President  has  not  finally  decided  on  your  appoint- 
ment." Mr.  Bayard  was  not  the  only  man  with  a  temper 
that  day;  I  was  slightly  "peeved"  myself.  I  wired  back:  "I 
sail  for  Australia  to-morrow.  Please  address  any  further 
communication  to  Melbourne."  This  message  might  have 
been  construed  as  a  case  of  Use  majeste,  but  so  far  as  I  was 
concerned  I  had  stood  all  the  hazing  I  intended  to  stand. 
I  had  the  President's  appointment  in  my  pocket,  and  I  de- 
cided that  if  I  was  consul-general  to  Australasia,  my  place 
was  in  Melbourne,  and  if  I  was  not  the  consul-general,  it 
was  none  of  Mr.  Bayard's  business  where  I  went,  especially 
as  the  Government  had  advanced  me  no  money,  and  I  was 
traveling  at  my  own  expense.  Strange  to  say,  I  never  heard 
any  more  about  the  matter. 

On  board  the  ship  as  passengers  were  representatives  of 
several  different  religious  sects  who  were  bound  for  the 
antipodes  bent  upon  the  conversion  of  the  heathen  Austra- 
lian. The  largest  sect  represented  was  composed  of  some 
forty  or  fifty  Seventh-Day  Adventists,  who,  if  the  captain 
of  the  ship  had  allowed  it,  would  have  held  a  continuous 


430   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

revival  throughout  the  voyage.  Their  nautical  lore  was 
limited,  and  probably  none  of  them  had  devoted  much  time 
to  the  study  of  the  science  of  navigation.  Owing  to  this 
omission  on  their  part  we  came  very  near  having  a  mutiny 
on  board  when  one  day  at  dinner  the  captain  arose  from  his 
seat  at  the  head  of  the  table  and  with  his  knife  rapped  for 
silence.  When  he  had  secured  the  attention  of  the  assembled 
company,  he  announced  that  the  ship  was  approaching 
the  one  hundred  and  eightieth  meridian  of  longitude  which 
would  be  crossed  during  the  night,  and  informed  us  that, 
although  the  day  was  Friday,  the  next  morning  would  be 
Sunday,  and  that  he  would  read  the  religious  services  on  the 
quarter  deck,  as  he  was  required  to  do  by  law.  Instantly 
there  was  an  uproar  among  the  Seventh-Day  Adventists, 
who  shouted  in  protest  against  the  tyrannical  decree  of  the 
captain,  accusing  him  of  trying  to  rob  them  of  their  Sab- 
bath, which  was  Saturday.  They  treated  with  indignation 
and  contempt  the  captain's  assurance  that  if  the  ship  had 
crossed  the  one  hundred  and  eightieth  meridian  on  Satur- 
day night,  the  next  day  would  necessarily  be  Monday. 
Things  looked  squally  for  a  time,  until  the  captain  offered 
a  sensible  compromise,  tendering  them  the  use  of  the  saloon 
for  their  devotional  exercises,  and  assuring  them  that  he 
had  not  the  slightest  objection  to  their  regarding  the  next 
day  as  Saturday,  or  any  other  day,  so  long  as  it  did  not 
interfere  with  the  navigation  of  his  ship. 


CHAPTER  LI 

Sydney's  beautiful  harbor —  The  authorities  compliment  me  by  giving  me  a 
private  compartment  for  the  journey  to  Melbourne  and  I  am  surprised  to 
find  myself  a  prisoner  therein  —  Beautiful  Melbourne  and  its  suburbs  —  Sir 
Henry  Loch,  Governor  of  Victoria  —  My  wife  suddenly  ennobled  —  Singular 
coincidence  of  meeting  a  gentleman  who  had  been  a  passenger  on  a  ship  we  had 
stopped  on  the  high  seas  twenty-two  years  previously  —  Wonderful  Aus- 
tralian horsemanship. 

It  would  require  the  pen  of  a  much  more  skilled  writer 
than  I  am  to  depict  the  beauties  of  the  harbor  of  Sydney. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that,  although  the  harbors  of  New  York, 
Rio  de  Janeiro,  and  San  Francisco  are  very  magnificent, 
they  cannot  compare  in  grandeur  to  that  of  the  "Queen  of 
the  Antipodes,"  where  the  greatest  ships  that  plough  the 
seas  can  tie  up  to  its  docks  and  still  have  fathoms  and 
fathoms  of  water  beneath  their  keels. 

Every  one  was  very  kind  to  us  in  Sydney.  An  American 
merchant  who  owned  an  American  trotting-horse  took  me 
for  a  drive  in  the  beautiful  suburbs,  and  we  went  as  far  as 
Botany  Bay,  so  famed  in  history  and  story  as  the  location 
of  the  much-dreaded  prison  settlement,  all  signs  of  which 
have  disappeared  long  years  ago.  I  shall  always  feel  grateful 
to  my  newly  made  friend  for  his  considerate  advice,  which 
was  never,  in  speaking  to  a  native,  to  allude  to  the  fact  that 
there  was  once  a  penal  settlement  in  Australia,  for  while 
hundreds  of  thousands  of  immigrants  of  all  classes  of  soci- 
ety, who  had  never  seen  the  inside  of  a  prison,  lived  in  the 
country,  they  resented  any  allusion  to  its  once  having  been 
a  penal  colony.  A  student  of  the  vagaries  of  human  na- 
ture would  be  impressed  by  the  singular  coincidence  that 
the  criminals  who  were  deported  to  the  American  colonies 
by  the  mother  country,  like  their  Australian  confreres,  never 
left  any  progeny,  despite  the  fact  that  all  other  men  and 


432   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

animals  who  settled   in   the   two   countries  immediately 
became  most  extraordinarily  prolific. 

The  railway  journey  from  Sydney  to  Melbourne  is  be- 
tween six  and  seven  hundred  miles  and  was  in  that  day 
(1885)  a  most  tedious  one.  Without  my  ever  having  met 
with  any  of  the  railway  officials,  they  most  considerately 
and  courteously  sent  me  free  transportation,  and  more  than 
that,  reserved  a  whole  compartment  for  Mrs.  Morgan  and 
myself,  the  guard  (a  conductor  we  should  call  him)  being 
given  orders  to  lock  us  in  and  not  to  open  the  door  for  any 
one.  These  instructions,  faithfully  carried  out,  caused  us, 
for  a  time,  no  little  inconvenience,  for  when  the  train  made 
a  long  wait  at  a  station  and  the  other  passengers  got  out  to 
get  refreshments  and  stretch  their  limbs,  the  grateful  change 
was  denied  us,  as  the  guard  was  obdurate,  and  insisted  on 
obeying  his  instructions  to  the  letter.  Finally  at  one  of  the 
stations  I  raised  such  a  row  that  a  railway  official  who  for- 
tunately was  a  passenger  came  to  our  compartment  to  find 
out  what  was  the  matter.  Explanations  followed  and  he 
persuaded  our  jailer  to  let  us  out  amid  much  good-natured 
laughter  at  our  expense. 

We  found  Melbourne  to  be  a  beautiful  city,  excelled  in 
that  respect  possibly  by  only  one  city  of  its  size  in  the  world, 
and  that,  of  course,  is  Washington.  The  city  proper  is  only 
a  mile  square  in  dimensions  and  is  situated  on  the  Yarra 
Yarra  River,  about  three  miles  above  where  that  stream 
empties  itself  into  Hobson's  Bay,  a  great  stretch  of  land- 
locked water  which  is  the  harbor  of  Melbourne,  but  with 
none  of  the  picturesque  beauty  of  Sydney  Harbor.  The 
city  on  the  Yarra  Yarra  has  many  fine  buildings,  but  they 
are  devoted  almost  entirely  to  business  purposes,  the  ma- 
jority of  its  population  living  in  the  picturesque  suburban 
settlements  which  entirely  surround  it  and  where  almost 
every  residence  is  surrounded  by  a  garden.  The  hand- 
somest of  these  suburbs,  which  contains  many  palatial 
dwellings,  is  called  "Toorak,"  and  naturally  is  the  abiding- 


Sir  Henry  Loch,  Governor  of  Victoria    433 

place  of  most  of  the  millionaires.  Being  a  modest  man  I 
took  a  house  in  South  Yarra,  where  people  of  moderate 
means  resided. 

My  first  pleasant  duty  was  to  call  on  Sir  Henry  (after- 
wards Lord)  Loch,  the  Governor  of  Victoria,  and  personal 
representative  of  the  Queen,  to  whom  I  showed  my  creden- 
tials and  received  his  authority  to  act  while  awaiting  the 
receipt  of  my  exequatur  with  Queen  Victoria's  signature 
attached.  The  governor  was  a  remarkably  handsome  man, 
tall,  well  formed,  dignified,  and  at  the  same  time  possessed 
of  most  winning  and  courteous  manners.  He  was  that  Sir 
Henry  Loch  who  with  Sir  Harry  Parks,  while  both  of  them 
were  serving  on  the  staff  of  Lord  Elgin  in  China,  were  cap- 
tured under  a  flag  of  truce  and  most  cruelly  tortured.  Sir 
Henry  told  me  that  he  had  been  manacled  and  placed  in  a 
cage,  and  in  that  way  had  been  carried  through  the  country 
as  a  spectacle  for  the  edification  of  the  people  in  the  interior. 
When  he  arrived  at  a  town  of  any  considerable  size,  for 
the  amusement  of  the  natives,  the  "foreign  devil"  as  they 
called  him  was  taken  out  of  his  cage,  naked,  and  chained 
to  the  stone  pavement;  and  among  other  tortures  he  was 
smeared  with  molasses  so  as  to  make  him  more  attractive 
to  the  flies.  Lady  Loch  belonged  to  one  of  the  bluest- 
blooded  families  of  the  British  aristocracy;  she  was  a 
beautiful  woman  and  looked  the  part  of  "vice-reine" 
which  she  so  charmingly  impersonated. 

Sir  Henry  had  surrounded  himself  with  quite  a  number 
of  high-born  young  men,  several  of  them  bearing  titles, 
who  assisted  in  making  the  social  functions  at  Government 
House  very  attractive.  There  was  also  a  constant  stream 
of  distinguished  travelers  passing  through  Melbourne,  and 
quite  a  number  of  younger  sons  and  other  sprigs  of  nobility 
who  had  come  croppers  at  home  and  were  seeking  new 
fortunes  in  the  land  of  gold,  where  people  made  fabulous 
returns  from  every  other  employment  than  that  of  digging 
for  the  yellow  metal. 


434        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Shortly  after  our  arrival  in  Melbourne  we  were  invited 
to  dine  at  Government  House  and  incidentally  received  our 
first  jar  at  the  hands  of  the  gorgeous  flunky  who,  resplendent 
in  the  vice-regal  liveries,  announced  the  guests.  In  an  un- 
dertone I  gave  him  our  names  as  Colonel  and  Mrs.  Morgan, 
when  to  my  horror  and  mortification  he  shouted  at  the  top 
of  his  voice,  "Colonel  and  Lady  Morgan!"  And  for  the  rest 
of  our  stay  in  Melbourne  Mrs.  Morgan  was  addressed 
generally  as  "Lady  Morgan." 

At  the  dinner,  the  governor,  who  had  become  very 
friendly  with  me,  laughingly  asked  a  Mr.  Calder  who  was 
seated  near  him  if  he  was  aware  that  a  reincarnation  of 
"Morgan  the  Buccaneer"  was  present.  Mr.  Calder  replied 
that  he  himself  had  once  been  captured  by  pirates,  and 
went  on  to  describe  how  in  1863,  when  returning  from  Eng- 
land, the  ship  he  was  on  had  been  stopped  by  the  Alabama, 
and  how,  when  the  boat  from  the  "corsair"  came  alongside, 
he  had  expected  to  see  the  typical  pirate,  over  six  feet  high, 
with  a  huge  beard,  board  the  vessel.  He  was  amazed  to  see 
an  infant  in  uniform  climb  up  the  ladder  and  demand  that 
the  captain  show  him  the  ship's  papers !  I  here  interrupted 
by  assuring  him  that  he  was  mistaken  about  the  Alabama 
having  captured  him,  at  which  assertion  he  became  very 
indignant  and  informed  me  that,  as  he  was  there,  he  ought 
to  know  what  he  was  talking  about,  and  added  that  the 
infant  had  told  him  that  the  name  of  the  cruiser  was  Ala- 
bama. I  replied  that  the  infant  had  lied,  and  Mr.  Calder 
demanded  to  know  how  I  could  possibly  make  such  an 
assertion,  and  was  dumfounded  when  I  told  him  that  I  was 
the  infant,  and  had  been  sent  aboard  the  Australian  liner 
for  the  purpose  of  telling  them  that  our  ship  (the  Georgia) 
was  the  Alabama,  in  the  hope  that  in  speaking  other  ships 
the  news  that  the  Alabama  was  in  those  waters  would  reach 
the  American  men-of-war  in  search  of  her  and  take  them 
off  of  her  trail  while  she  made  her  way  to  the  Indian  Ocean. 
I  also  told  Mr.  Calder  that  while  the  infant  midshipman 


Wonderful  Australian  Horsemanship     435 

was  in  the  captain's  cabin,  he,  Mr.  Calder,  had  procured  a 
paper  bag  full  of  cakes  and  two  copies  of  the  "Illustrated 
London  News"  and  presented  them  to  the  grateful  middy, 
who  had  not  enjoyed  such  good  things  for  many  a  long 
day.  The  gentleman  looked  amazed,  and  in  reply  to  his 
unspoken  question,  I  said,  "Yes;  I  have  grown  somewhat 
in  the  last  twenty  years." 

My  house  in  South  Yarra  was  situated  not  very  far  from 
Government  House,  and  Sir  Henry  frequently  sent  for  me 
when  anything  of  interest  was  going  on  there.  On  one  occa- 
sion he  invited  me  to  see  an  exhibition  of  riding  by  an  Aus- 
tralian, and  I  must  say  that  it  was  the  most  remarkable  bit  of 
horsemanship  I  ever  beheld.  I  have  ridden  with  the  English- 
men behind  the  famous  "Pytchley,"  I  have  lived  with  the 
Texan,  and  sojourned  with  the  Western  cowboy,  and  I  have 
also  matched  my  own  skill  with  the  Bedouin  Arab  on  his 
native  desert,  and  there  are  old  men  still  living  who  will  bear 
testimony  to  my  expertness  in  the  saddle  when  I  was  young ; 
but  I  take  off  my  hat  to  the  Australian  and  will  give  him  the 
palm  as  the  best  horseman  in  the  world.  The  Bedouin  rides 
a  horse  that  was  foaled  in  his  master's  tent ;  he  was  always 
broken.  The  Englishman  rides  a  horse  that  is  trained 
from  the  time  he  is  a  yearling  and  who  never,  even  in  a 
nightmare,  dreamed  of  bucking;  and  the  cowboy,  while  de- 
serving all  credit  for  his  wonderful  sticking  abilities  when 
"busting"  his  bronco,  is  after  all  only  riding  a  pony  who 
quickly  gets  tired  of  bucking  and  quits.  But  the  Australian 
rides  an  entirely  different  animal  from  any  of  the  foregoing. 
The  English  thoroughbred,  —  and  there  are  no  other  kinds 
of  horses  in  Australia,  —  when  bred  on  the  great  stations 
(ranches),  where  they  roam  over  estates  of  hundreds  of 
square  miles,  not  only  becomes  very  wild,  but  develops  into 
a  buck-jumper  of  magnificent  proportions,  and  furthermore 
he  grows  to  be  a  much  larger  animal  than  his  English  ances- 
tor. It  also  must  be  remembered  that  the  Australian  rides 
a  plain  English  saddle  without  pommel  or  cantle. 


436   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

When  I  arrived  at  Government  House  on  this  occasion,  I 
found  Sir  Henry  Loch  and  two  other  gentlemen  waiting  in 
the  paddock;  one  of  these  was  the  Honorable  Robert  Boyle, 
a  younger  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cork,  and  the  other  was  that 
Sir  George  Tryon,  commander  of  the  fleet  in  Australian 
waters  at  that  time,  who  afterwards  lost  his  life  when  the 
collision  occurred  in  the  Mediterranean  between  the  battle- 
ships the  Camperdown  and  the  Victoria. 

The  horse  to  be  ridden  was  a  big  bay  nearly  seventeen 
hands  high  and  powerful  in  proportion.  He  was  eight  years 
old  and  had  never  had  even  a  rope  on  him  before  that  day. 
He  had  been  driven  in  a  "mob"  of  horses  from  the  station 
where  he  was  bred,  and  now  was  in  a  narrow  trap  into 
which  he  had  been  forced  by  the  use  of  a  portable  fence. 
In  this  pen  of  strong  timbers  the  frightened  and  frantic 
creature  had,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life,  a  snaffle  bit  forced 
into  his  mouth  and  a  saddle  girthed  to  his  back.  It  was 
also  while  confined  in  this  way  that  the  Australian,  a 
splendid-looking  specimen  of  a  man,  mounted  him,  and  as 
though  by  magic  the  impromptu  stall  tumbled  apart  and 
the  struggles  of  the  horse  to  get  rid  of  the  man,  and  of  the 
man  to  stay  on  the  horse,  commenced.  The  enraged  crea- 
ture suddenly  lowered  his  head  until  it  was  between  his 
knees  and  then  leaped  into  the  air  perpendicularly  and  came 
down  on  the  same  spot  stiff -legged ;  then  he  jumped  side- 
ways to  the  left,  followed  by  a  spring  to  the  right,  and  with 
the  quickness  of  a  cat  he  plunged  forward  and  then  back- 
ward ;  and  before  the  onlookers  could  catch  their  breath  he 
had  whirled  around  several  times  with  such  lightning-like 
rapidity  that  it  made  every  one  dizzy  to  watch  him ;  he  then 
began  to  squeal  and  dashed  off  in  a  mad  race  around  the 
paddock,  only  interrupted  by  frequent  stops  to  indulge  in 
buck-jumping  and  whirls.  During  the  whole  of  this  per- 
formance the  Australian  calmly  kept  his  seat  as  though  he 
was  a  part  of  the  frantic  animal.  This  exhibition  of  rough 
riding  came  near  ending  in  a  tragedy.   The  horse  by  leaps 


Wonderful  Australian  Horsemanship     437 

and  bounds  finally  approached  within  eight  or  ten  feet  of 
the  stout  board  fence  which  enclosed  the  paddock,  and  then 
he  leaped  into  the  air  and  threw  his  body,  broadside  on, 
against  it!  Horse,  man,  and  fence  went  down  with  a  crash, 
and  for  a  moment  there  was  indescribable  confusion  as 
amidst  the  flying  planks  the  horse  rolled  completely  over 
his  rider,  recovered  his  feet,  and  continued  his  acrobatic 
feats;  but  to  his  evident  astonishment  his  mad  attempt  at 
murder  and  suicide  had  not  budged  the  Australian  from  his 
saddle. 

Sir  Henry  Loch  ordered  the  performance  stopped  at  once; 
saying  that  he  could  not  allow  the  sacrifice  of  the  life  of  one 
of  Her  Majesty's  subjects  simply  to  show  two  sailors  what 
real  horsemanship  was.  But  the  Australian  did  not  take  the 
same  view,  and  begged,  almost  with  tears,  to  be  allowed  to 
stay  where  he  was  until  the  horse  gave  up  the  fight,  saying 
that  if  he  dismounted  then,  no  living  human  being  would 
ever  be  able  to  ride  that  horse  again.  But  Sir  Henry  was 
firm,  and  the  show  was  over. 


CHAPTER  LII 

Impecunious  globe-trotters  —  Consular  courts  —  Become  skipper  of  a 
water-logged  bark  against  my  wishes  —  A  captain  claims  a  dollar  a  day  for 
tuition  in  the  culinary  art  —  For  obeying  my  instructions  an  Australian  court 
mulcts  me  for  five  hundred  dollars,  holding  that  despite  my  exequatur  I  am 
only  a  commercial  agent  —  Grocer's  assistant  gets  quite  a  large  fortune  — 
Many  supposed  dead  men  live  in  the  South  Sea  Islands  —  Blackbirders. 

Were  I  an  habitual  office-holder  I  would  describe  my 
duties  at  the  consulate-general  as  onerous  and  myself  as 
the  only  man  who  could  possibly  perform  them.  But  such 
was  not  the  fact.  The  only  line  of  American  steamers  came 
to  the  port  of  Sydney,  and  only  a  small  quantity  of  wool 
was  shipped  to  the  United  States  from  Melbourne.  At  rare 
intervals  an  American  sailing  ship,  generally  a  dilapidated, 
bluff-bowed  old  u  water-bruiser,"  would  limp  into  Hobson's 
Bay,  either  loaded  with  lumber  or  in  ballast,  and  from  there 
go  to  Newcastle,  New  South  Wales,  for  a  cargo  of  coal,  and 
the  business  of  these  vessels  did  not  occupy  much  time.  Of 
course  I  was  harassed  by  impecunious  "globe-trotters," 
who  would  insist  that  as  consul  I  had  in  my  keeping  a  large 
fund,  furnished  by  the  Government,  for  the  purpose  of  pay- 
ing their  passages  to  the  next  point  of  interest  they  proposed 
to  visit,  and  failing  that,  as  a  man  and  a  brother,  my  con- 
science should  compel  me  to  supply  the  means  out  of  my 
own  pocket.  At  rare  intervals  it  was  necessary  to  hold  a 
consular  court,  either  to  take  testimony  in  some  lawsuit 
pending  before  the  courts  at  home,  or  to  decide  some  ques- 
tion between  an  American  captain  and  his  crew.  One  case 
of  this  kind  was  when  a  captain  demanded  that  I  should 
discharge  his  crew  for  him  without  pay  on  account  of  their 
mutinous  conduct,  and  the  counter-charge  of  the  crew  that 
the  ship  had  been  sent  out  from  the  home  port  in  ballast  for 
the  purpose  of  having  her  wrecked  so  as  to  collect  the  insur- 
ance money,  and  that  it  was  because  they  would  not  allow 


Duties  as  Consul-General  439 

the  skipper  to  scuttle  her  that  he  made  the  charge  of  mutiny 
against  them.  I  decided  in  favor  of  the  crew  and  ordered 
them  paid  off,  but  the  skipper  said  he  had  no  money,  and 
when  I  told  him  that  I  would  not  clear  his  ship  with  a  new 
crew  until  he  did  pay  them,  the  skipper  skipped,  leaving  his 
unseaworthy  old  bark  on  my  hands,  and  the  port  authorities 
made  life  miserable  for  me  until  she  was  finally  beached  to 
keep  her  from  sinking  in  the  harbor. 

The  captains  of  some  of  these  Pacific  sailing  tramp  ships 
were  a  hard  lot,  who  were  so  mean  that  they  not  only  ill- 
treated  their  crews  and  gave  them  scant  rations,  but  to  save 
the  expense  of  oil  actually  carried  no  lights  at  night,  much 
to  the  danger  of  other  vessels  as  well  as  their  own.  One  of 
these  fellows,  whose  crew  I  discharged,  had  borrowed  the 
savings  of  his  negro  cook  amounting  to  a  hundred  dollars, 
but  when  it  came  to  a  settlement  both  loan  and  wages  were 
wiped  out  by  the  captain's  counterclaim  for  broken  crock- 
ery, dishes  spoiled  in  the  cooking,  and  a  charge  of  one  dollar 
a  day  for  tuition  in  the  culinary  art  during  the  whole  time 
the  man  had  been  on  board  of  his  ship.  He  pretended  to  be 
indignant  when  I  would  not  allow  this  fraud  to  pass. 

I  had  a  personal  experience  with  one  of  the  Australian 
courts  of  justice  which  was  temporarily  both  costly  and  un- 
pleasant. The  circumstances  were  as  follows:  There  re- 
sided in  a  handsome  villa  in  a  fashionable  suburb  a  woman 
who  was  always  expensively  dressed  and  who,  despite  her 
dissipated  appearance,  still  showed  signs  of  once  having  been 
beautiful  and  refined.  I  was  told  that  her  house  was  richly 
furnished  and  contained  costly  paintings  and  marble  statues 
besides  other  objects  of  art,  etc.  Every  three  months  a  bill 
of  exchange  for  a  large  amount  came  to  the  consulate  from 
a  city  in  New  England,  with  instructions  that  it  was  to  be 
given  into  the  hands  of  this  woman  and  her  receipt  taken 
therefor.  This  went  on  for  a  long  time  until  one  day,  after 
the  arrival  of  the  American  mail,  she  did  not  put  in  an 
appearance  at  the  consulate.    I  sent  word  to  her  that  her 


440        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

money  had  arrived,  but  for  some  time  afterward  received 
no  reply,  until  one  morning,  a  very  "cheeky"  young  man 
bounced  into  my  office  and  informed  me  that  he  was  the 
assistant  of  the  grocer  who  supplied  the  woman  with  provi- 
sions, and  that  he  had  come  for  her  check,  at  the  same  time 
insinuating  that  there  was  no  use  in  my  denying  it,  as  he 
knew  I  had  the  money.  Naturally  I  declined  to  entrust  the 
valuable  piece  of  paper  to  the  keeping  of  this  individual, 
much  to  his  indignation.  A  few  days  afterward  he  returned 
and  told  me  that  the  lady  was  very  ill  and  must  have  the 
money  at  once.  Again  I  declined  to  part  with  it,  when  the 
fellow  angrily  said:  "Well,  anyhow,  she  is  going  to  die  to- 
morrow and  then  I  will  show  you  who  will  get  the  money." 
I  asked  him  how  he  dared  say  that  any  one  was  going  to  die 
to-morrow  or  any  other  day,  but  he  only  repeated  his  asser- 
tion. The  very  next  day  he  again  made  his  appearance  and, 
with  a  broad  grin  on  his  vulgar  face,  exclaimed:  "She  is 
dead !  I  told  you  so !  And  now  I  will  show  you  who  is  going 
to  get  the  money." 

I  sent  the  consular  clerk  at  once  to  the  house  with  in- 
structions that,  if  the  report  that  the  woman  was  dead  was 
true,  he  was  to  place  the  seal  of  the  consulate  upon  all 
of  her  effects,  as  I  was  required  to  do  by  the  consular  in- 
structions. This  was  done ;  and  I  immediately  called  on  the 
doctor  who  had  attended  the  dead  woman  during  her  last 
illness.  I  found  him  in  a  very  indignant  frame  of  mind  con- 
cerning the  case.  He  told  me  that  his  patient  had  died  from 
alcoholism,  and  that  despite  his  instructions  that  under  no 
circumstances  should  she  be  allowed  to  touch  spirits  of  any 
kind,  the  grocer's  assistant  had  surreptitiously  kept  her  sup- 
plied with  the  brandy  which  had  caused  her  death. 

When  I  had  made  sure  of  the  woman's  death  I  placed 
the  bill  of  exchange  in  a  sealed  envelope,  directed  to  the 
person  who  had  sent  the  money,  and  dropped  the  missive 
into  the  post-office  with  my  own  hand ;  and  well  it  was  that 
I  did  so,  for  no  sooner  were  the  obsequies  over  than  the 


Lost  Men  in  the  South  Sea  Islands      441 

grocer's  assistant  filed  a  will  signed  by  the  unfortunate  de- 
ceased in  due  legal  form,  making  him  sole  legatee  as  well  as 
executor  of  her  estate.  He  then  came  in  haste  to  me  and  de- 
manded that  I  surrender  to  him  the  bill  of  exchange,  and  his 
impotent  rage  when  I  told  him  that  I  had  returned  it  to  its 
rightful  owner  was  a  sight  to  see.  But  the  fellow  got  even 
with  me.  He  sued  me  personally  for  trespass  and  demanded 
damages.  My  lawyer  thought  it  would  only  be  necessary  for 
me  to  produce  my  book  of  instructions  from  my  Government 
to  convince  the  court  that  I  had  acted  legally,  but  the  gro- 
cer's clerk  employed  a  smarter  lawyer,  who  made  the  point 
that  there  was  not  and  never  had  been  a  consular  treaty  be- 
tween Great  Britain  and  the  United  States,  and  that  conse- 
quently, at  most,  I  could  only  be  regarded  by  the  court  as  a 
commercial  agent,  with  none  of  the  prerogatives  of  a  consul. 
The  judge  who  presided  at  the  trial  was  an  Irishman  who 
had  formerly  been  a  policeman  in  New  York :  he  mulcted  me 
for  fifty  pounds  sterling  for  damages  besides  fifty  pounds  for 
costs,  making  five  hundred  dollars  outside  of  my  lawyer's 
fee! 

Of  course  I  reported  the  matter  to  the  State  Department, 
which  took  scant  notice  of  my  protest,  and  I  will  maintain 
with  my  dying  breath  that,  unless  such  a  treaty  has  been 
made  since  that  time,  no  official  act  of  an  American  or 
British  consul  in  either  country  is  or  has  ever  been  legal. 

After  Mr.  Blaine  became  Secretary  of  State  I  related  the 
above  facts  to  my  friend  Walker  Blaine,  his  son,  who 
brought  the  matter  to  the  attention  of  his  father  with  the 
result  that  the  five  hundred  dollars  was  refunded  to  me. 

The  South  Sea  Islands  have  a  singular  fascination  for  some 
people.  There  are  many  men,  whose  families  at  home  have 
long  since  mourned  them  as  dead,  who  to-day  are  alive 
and  well  enjoying  the  care-free  life  and  dolce  far  niente  of 
that  dream-compelling  climate.  I  heard  of  one  such  man 
who  had  been  for  many  years  a  dweller  on  one  of  the  islands, 
and  was  told  that  he  was  a  one-legged  man  and  that  his 


442        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

name  was  Proctor.  It  so  happened  that  I  had  had  a  school- 
mate by  the  name  of  Proctor  who  had  lost  a  leg  at  the  first 
battle  of  Manassas.  He  was  a  nephew  of  General  Beaure- 
gard, and  after  he  returned  to  his  home  in  New  Orleans, 
after  the  Civil  War,  he  found  that  a  young  lady  with  whom 
he  was  deeply  enamoured  had  married  some  one  else,  and 
Proctor  disappeared,  not  to  be  heard  of  again  for  many 
years. 

I  started  inquiries  about  this  man  Proctor,  and  was  in- 
formed that  he  was  living  with  the  natives  and  in  sore 
trouble  on  account  of  his  artificial  leg  having  worn  out.  I 
also  heard  a  strange  story  connected  with  that  same  leg, 
which  was  that  on  one  occasion  when  Proctor  and  a  boat's 
crew  had  landed  on  the  beach  of  one  of  the  islands,  they 
were  suddenly  set  upon  by  cannibals.  It  was  a  case  of 
sauve  qui  petit,  and  the  rest  of  the  crew  left  Proctor  to  his 
fate  as  they  took  flight  toward  the  place  where  they  had  left 
their  boat.  Proctor  could  not  run,  but  nothing  daunted  he 
sat  down  on  the  beach  and  deliberately  unfastened  his  arti- 
ficial leg,  intending  to  use  it  as  a  weapon  and  sell  his  life  as 
dearly  as  possible.  The  cannibals,  seeing  a  man  unhitching 
his  limbs,  took  fright  and  scampered  back  into  the  bush 
leaving  Proctor  unharmed.  I  soon  learned  that  this  same 
man  was  the  friend  of  my  boyhood,  and  I  wrote  him  a  letter 
asking  him  to  come  to  Melbourne  and  also  sent  him  money 
to  come  with.  When  he  arrived  in  Melbourne  I  took  him  to 
my  home  and  gave  him  employment  in  the  consulate. 

Proctor  told  me  many  of  his  adventures  and  of  his  strange 
life  among  the  South  Sea  islanders  who,  when  they  are  not 
cannibals,  are  most  hospitable  and  the  kindliest  people  in 
the  world.  Shortly  after  his  first  arrival  in  Australia  neces- 
sity compelled  him  to  accept  the  first  offer  of  a  job  that  was 
made  him  and  this  was  to  take  command  of  a  "  blackbirder." 
A  "blackbirder"  was  nothing  more  or  less  than  a  slaver,  but 
the  word  "slave-owner"  horrifies  our  British  cousins  too 
much  to  allow  of  its  use  in  their  presence.    Proctor,  and 


Blackbirders  443 

many  others  in  the  trade,  only  took  their  ships  to  promising 
islands  and,  anchoring  offshore,  tempted,  at  first,  one  or  two 
of  the  more  venturesome  of  the  suspicious  natives  to  come 
on  board:  these  pioneers  were  shown  many  colored  beads, 
gaudy  handkerchiefs,  and  tinsel,  and  then  they  were  allowed 
to  return  to  their  friends  to  tell  of  the  wondrous  store  of 
what  they  considered  wealth  the  ship  contained.  Finally, 
impelled  by  curiosity,  the  king  or  chief  would  go  on  board, 
and  the  rest  was  easy.  He  was  shown  the  coveted  articles 
on  the  upper  deck,  and  then  was  promised  a  number  of  them 
if  he  would  induce  the  ablest  of  his  young  men  to  come  on 
board.  Once  on  the  ship  they  were  invited  to  go  below  and 
see  greater  wonders  still,  and  while  they  would  be  admiring 
the  gaudy  trifles,  the  hatches  would  be  suddenly  closed, 
and  the  "  blackbirder "  would  sail  away  for  Queensland 
where  the  sugar  planters  were  eagerly  waiting  for  them. 
They  were  not  sold  into  slavery,  —  oh,  no !  that  is  too 
horrid  a  word ;  but  those  poor  devils,  who  could  neither  read 
nor  write,  nor  yet  speak  English,  signed  contracts  to  work 
on  the  plantations  and  in  return  for  their  labor  received  a 
few  strings  of  beads  and  three  or  four  bandanna  hand- 
kerchiefs. The  Government  allowed  them  to  be  contracted 
for  a  term  of  only  three  years,  and  there  was  a  clause  in 
the  document  requiring  their  return  at  the  expiration  of  that 
time.  This  clause  was  faithfully  lived  up  to  by  the  planters, 
and  possibly  the  same  ship  which  had  brought  them  took 
them  back  to  the  chain  of  islands,  which  all  look  wonder- 
fully alike.  The  natives  were  told  by  the  captain  to  point 
out  their  particular  island  and  they  would  be  landed.  But 
few  would  risk  it,  as,  if  they  made  a  mistake  and  put  foot 
on  the  wrong  island,  they  would  be  killed  and  eaten  before 
the  ship  which  had  brought  them  sailed  out  of  sight.  Con- 
sequently the  unfortunates  preferred  to  return  to  their 
drudgery  than  to  take  such  risks. 

It  might  be  asked  where  the  profit  to  the  ship  came  in. 
Well,  it  is  said  that  there  are  cabins  de  luxe  on  the  transat- 


444   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

lantic  liners  which  cost  a  thousand  dollars  a  trip,  and  while 
not  quite  so  luxurious,  the  price  of  a  passage  from  the 
islands  to  Queensland  for  a  cannibal  was  proportionately 
high  for  the  accommodations  furnished,  and  the  planter  had 
to  pay  this  before  he  got  his  "  nigger." 

Proctor  remained  with  me  for  two  months,  and  then  the 
"call  from  Cathay"  became  too  strong  for  him  to  resist, 
and  he  returned  to  his  queer  friends,  who  knew  not  what 
labor  meant,  nor  the  need  of  clothes,  and  to  whom  Nature 
supplied  cocoanuts,  fruit,  and  fish  which  amply  supplied 
their  wants. 

In  reading  this  account  of  the  doings  of  the  "black- 
birders,"  as  recounted  to  me  by  Proctor,  it  must  be  re- 
membered that  I  am  writing  about  a  state  of  affairs  which 
existed  forty  or  more  years  ago,  and  that  the  Government 
of  Queensland  even  in  my  time  (1885-89)  had  put  a  stop  to 
much  of  the  injustice  of  the  trade. 

Ten  or  fifteen  years  after  I  had  returned  to  the  United 
States,  I  learned  that  Proctor  had  come  home  to  New 
Orleans,  found  the  sweetheart  of  his  youth  a  widow,  and 
married  her. 


CHAPTER  LIII 

Vast  estates  —  Australian  hospitality  —  Kangaroo  hunting  —  The  dingo 

—  Rabbits  in  myriads  —  Aborigines  —  Marriage  customs  —  Black  trackers 

—  Black  swans  —  No  songbirds,  but  many  curious  birds  —  The  "laughing 
jackass"  always  gets  a  laugh  when  he  tells  a  funny  story  —  The  "Orni- 
thoryncus." 

While  in  Australia  I  visited  several  of  the  large  stations 
(as  the  ranches  are  called),  many  of  them  comprising  sev- 
eral hundreds  of  square  miles  of  land,  whereon  thousands  of 
cattle,  horses,  and  sheep  grazed  at  will :  that  is,  they  grazed 
at  that  time  wherever  the  rabbits  had  left  any  verdure  for 
them  to  feed  upon. 

The  owners  of  the  vast  estates  possessed  every  comfort 
that  money  could  procure,  and  they  wanted  for  nothing 
except  social  intercourse  with  their  equals.  Owing  to  their 
great  holdings  of  land  frequently  the  nearest  neighbor  lived 
thirty  or  more  miles  away,  and  a  visitor  was  generally  re- 
ceived with  open  arms.  They  were  a  most  hospitable  people 
and  joyously  "welcomed  the  coming  guest,"  but  were  loath 
to  "  speed  the  parting  one." 

One  of  the  greatest  amusements  at  the  stations  was  the 
kangaroo  hunt,  for  which  sport  they  had  bred  a  special  dog 
very  much  resembling  the  great  English  staghound.  An 
Australian  would  no  more  shoot  a  kangaroo  than  an  Eng- 
lishman would  a  fox.  I  went  on  several  of  these  hunts,  which 
take  place  very  frequently,  as  the  singular  beast  feeds  on 
the  grass  needed  for  sheep.  In  the  daytime  the  animal  is 
to  be  found  only  on  the  tops  of  the  hills,  where  he  can  easily 
see  the  approach  of  a  possible  enemy. 

One  morning  I  went  out  with  a  party  of  gentlemen  and 
employees  of  the  estate,  and  with  field-glasses  located  a  num- 
ber of  kangaroos.  We  passed  around  the  foot  of  the  hill 
until  we  got  well  to  leeward  and  then  commenced  the 


446    Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

ascent.  We  were  well  on  top  of  the  hill  before  we  were 
discovered  and  the  animals  took  fright.  They  started  down 
the  incline  with  marvelous  speed,  their  extraordinary  leaps 
covering  forty  or  more  feet  at  each  bound,  and  the  jumps 
following  each  other  with  such  astounding  rapidity  as  fairly 
to  daze  the  onlooker. 

I  was  mounted  on  a  race-horse  called  "Post  Boy,"  be- 
longing to  my  host,  which  was  noted  for  speed,  he  having  won 
a  valuable  cup  only  a  month  prior  to  the  time  of  our  hunt. 
Putting  the  spurs  to  our  horses,  we  fairly  flew  after  the  flee- 
ing kangaroos,  but  no  horse,  no  matter  what  his  speed, 
can  keep  up  with  one  of  these  animals  going  downhill. 
When  we  reached  the  level  ground,  however,  we  gained 
rapidly,  and  then  I  saw  a  singular  sight.  The  horsemen  had 
their  stirrup  leathers  so  arranged  that  they  could  easily  be 
unfastened  from  the  saddle,  and  when  we  reached  the  level 
ground  they  unfastened  one,  swinging  the  iron  stirrup 
around  their  heads  as  a  cowboy  would  a  lasso.  Each  man 
went  in  chase  of  a  particular  kangaroo,  and  when  he  ranged 
alongside  of  the  poor  beast,  with  unerring  aim  he  laid  the 
creature  low  with  a  single  blow.  The  kangaroo's  most  tender 
spot  is  the  head,  so  tender,  in  fact,  that  the  aboriginals  kill 
it  easily  with  the  light  boomerang. 

One  kangaroo,  when  he  got  tired,  stopped  in  the  open,  and 
a  jockey,  a  boy  of  sixteen,  leaped  from  his  horse  and  run- 
ning around  the  poor  creature,  to  avoid  its  death-dealing 
kick,  he  seized  it  from  behind,  and  then  commenced  a  most 
interesting  wrestling-bout,  for  the  kangaroo  turned  in  the 
boy's  embrace  and  they  had  a  grand  struggle  until  one  of 
the  horsemen  arrived  and  gave  the  brute  a  coup  de  grace  with 
his  stirrup.  After  the  melee  it  was  found  that  the  boy  had 
been  quite  badly  bitten  on  the  shoulder. 

Another  kangaroo,  when  he  came  to  a  huge  and  dead 
eucalyptus  tree,  placed  his  back  against  it  and  faced  his 
foes,  the  first  of  whom  to  reach  him  was  a  large  hound,  and 
as  the  dog  leaped  for  his  throat  the  kangaroo  raised  one  of  his 


The  Rabbit  Pest  447 

powerful  hind  legs  and  with  a  swift  blow  disemboweled  the 
hound  as  cleverly  as  though  the  operation  had  been  per- 
formed with  a  butcher's  cleaver. 

I  also  participated  in  a  dingo  hunt.  This  cowardly  brute 
is  the  only  carnivorous  animal  indigenous  to  Australia.  He 
is  red  in  color  and  is  a  species  of  wild  dog,  resembling  in  his 
habits  and  appearance  our  own  despised  coyote.  I  was  told 
that  a  single  dingo  in  one  night  would  kill  as  many  as  fifty 
sheep  merely  for  the  love  of  slaughter. 

I  saw,  too,  while  at  these  stations  the  ravages  committed 
by  the  rabbits.  These  little  creatures  are  not  indigenous, 
but  are  the  offspring  of  a  half-dozen  which  were  imported 
by  a  gentleman  for  the  purpose  of  making  his  lawn  look 
more  like  home,  as  even  the  Australians  who  have  never 
visited  the  mother  country  call  England.  The  rabbits  on 
arriving  in  Australia  changed  many  of  their  habits,  and 
instead  of  breeding  only  once  or  twice  a  year  and  produc- 
ing only  two  young  at  a  time,  they  began  to  breed  when 
only  a  month  old,  giving  birth  to  four  or  six  at  a  litter,  and 
producing  a  new  litter  every  month,  until  the  country  was 
overrun  by  them,  and  lands  which  had  supported  thousands 
of  sheep  became  as  bare  as  if  a  fire  had  swept  over  them, 
the  rabbits  having  fed  upon  even  the  roots  of  the  grass.  I 
saw  one  stretch  of  country  where  there  were  so  many  of  these 
creatures  that  the  ground  seemed  to  be  in  motion,  so  close 
were  they  together.  The  ravages  were  so  serious  that  a 
bounty  was  paid  by  the  Government  for  rabbit  scalps,  and 
thousands  of  pounds  were  offered  for  an  invention  that 
would  rid  the  country  of  the  pest.  Miles  of  rabbit-proof 
fencing  was  put  up  and  an  attempt  made  to  kill  all  the 
vermin  within  the  enclosure,  but  it  was  discovered  that  when 
the  men  engaged  in  the  exterminating  process  found  rab- 
bits getting  scarce,  rather  than  lose  their  jobs  they  would 
throw  a  few  pair  over  the  fence  so  as  to  secure  a  new  supply. 

I  sent  a  report  to  the  State  Department  describing  the 
ruin  the  rabbits  had  wrought,  and  in  it  stated  that  one  pair 


448   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

of  rabbits  in  three  years  would,  through  their  progeny,  pro- 
duce two  millions  of  bunnies.  The  newspapers  got  hold  of 
this  report  and  made  great  fun  of  me.  It  was  suggested  that 
I  revise  my  figures,  and  in  reply  I  sent  them  the  report  of 
the  government  statistician  from  which  I  had  procured  my 
information  on  the  subject,  in  which  it  appeared  that  an 
experiment  had  been  made  by  segregating  one  pair  of  the 
little  animals  in  an  enclosure  so  arranged  that  they  could 
not  burrow  out  of  it  and  no  other  rabbits  could  get  to  them. 
After  a  time,  when  the  enclosure  could  hold  no  more,  a 
simple  calculation,  made  by  multiplication,  gave  the  above 
result. 

I  saw  many  strange  sights  in  this  land,  where  the  trees  do 
not  lose  their  leaves,  but  do  shed  their  bark,  and  one  of  the 
weirdest  sights  was  to  pass  through  a  forest  of  eucalyptus 
trees  which  had  been  belted  so  that  grass  for  sheep  would 
grow  at  their  roots,  and  watch  the  flocks  of  white  cockatoos 
flying  from  dead  branch  to  dead  branch,  and  on  the  ground 
an  "old  man"  kangaroo,  at  least  six  feet  in  height,  looking 
very  uncanny,  as  with  extraordinary  leaps  and  bounds  he 
fled  from  the  approach  of  man. 

I  saw  also  great  fern  trees,  of  the  same  species  we  place 
in  jardinieres,  whose  leaves  were  fifteen  or  twenty  feet  in 
length. 

I  visited  a  camp  of  the  aborigines,  those  strange  black 
people,  with  long  and  silky  hair,  who  are  classed  as  the  lowest 
specimens  of  the  human  race.  At  night  the  spectacle  of 
the  camp  was  most  attractive,  as  the  ground  seemed  to  be 
sprinkled  with  tiny  lights.  The  aboriginal  says  that  when 
a  man's  stomach  is  warm,  it  is  all  that  is  necessary  in  cold 
weather,  and  each  member  of  the  tribe  builds  his  own  in- 
dividual little  fire  of  twigs  affording  a  small  flame  not  much 
larger  than  that  of  a  candle,  and  getting  his  belly  close  to  it, 
and  his  body  forming  a  half-circle  around  it,  after  his  day 
of  hunting  he  comfortably  sleeps. 

The  Australian  opossum,  which  has  a  fine  fur  as  well  as 


The  Australian  Aborigines  449 

a  bushy  tail,  is  the  mainstay  of  the  native's  existence,  fur- 
nishing him  with  meat  and  the  little  clothes  which  he 
wears  only  in  cold  weather.  The  aborigines  climb  to  great 
heights  on  the  giant  dead  trees,  which  have  limbs  only  near 
their  tops,  by  cutting  with  their  tomahawks  notches  in 
which  they  insert  their  big  toes.  I  saw  one  of  these  fellows, 
at  least  fifty  feet  from  the  ground,  stop,  and  with  his  hatchet 
dig  out  of  the  dead  tree  a  worm  at  least  six  inches  long  and 
as  big  around  as  my  first  finger,  and,  horrible  to  relate,  he 
opened  his  mouth  and  swallowed  the  slimy  thing. 

The  way  the  men  get  wives  is  rather  unique.  Only  in 
exceptional  cases  do  they  take  women  of  their  own  tribe  for 
mates,  and  as  every  tribe  is  constantly  at  war  with  all  their 
neighbors  it  would  seem  that  the  race  must  die  out  but  for 
a  custom  of  hunting  in  three  parties,  the  men  in  one,  the 
married  women  in  another,  and  the  young  girls  of  marriage- 
able age  forming  a  third.  The  object  of  the  hunt,  besides  the 
obtaining  of  food,  is  to  capture  the  young  women  of  their 
enemies.  When  they  do  marry  in  their  own  tribes  the  cere- 
mony is  very  striking.  After  the  bargain  with  the  girl's 
father  is  completed  and  the  required  number  of  opossum 
skins  paid,  the  bride  takes  up  a  position  just  outside  of  her 
parent's  hut,  and  alone  waits  there.  She  has  not  long  to 
wait,  for  the  groom  to  be  is  watching.  As  soon  as  he  sees  her 
in  her  proper  place,  he  seizes  his  war  club,  walks  to  where 
she  is  standing,  raises  his  weapon,  and  bats  her  over  the 
head,  knocking  her  senseless.  He  then  picks  up  her  body, 
puts  it  on  his  shoulder,  carries  her  to  his  own  hut  —  and 
the  ceremony  is  over.  The  object  of  hitting  her  on  the  head 
is  said  to  be  for  the  purpose  of  showing  her  who  is  going  to 
be  boss  in  the  future.  When  an  attempt  is  made  to  civilize 
these  people,  they  quickly  become  victims  of  tuberculosis 
and  die. 

Many  of  these  aborigines  are  employed  by  the  rural  police 
to  assist  in  the  capture  of  escaped  prisoners,  or  to  find  peo- 
ple who  become  lost  in  the  "bush,"  as  the  back  country  is 


450   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

called.  Those  used  in  this  service  are  called  "black  track- 
ers," and  besides  their  marvelous  woodcraft  they  possess 
a  keen  faculty  of  scent  unsurpassed  by  even  that  of  a  hound 
dog,  and  it  is  said  that  no  prisoner  who  ever  attempted  to 
escape  into  the  bush  has  ever  been  able  to  elude  them,  and 
they  never  fail  to  bring  back  those  travelers  who  have  lost 
their  way. 

I  went  also  to  the  lake  whereon  the  black  swans  breed,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  that  their  young  were  white.  The  morn- 
ing after  my  arrival  there  I  was  awakened  by  the  sound  of 
myriads  of  little  tinkling  silver  bells,  and  was  amazed  to  find 
that  the  sweet  music  came  from  the  throats  of  numberless 
little  "bell"  birds  no  bigger  than  my  thumb. 

I  also  saw  in  my  travels  into  the  interior  of  the  country 
those  remarkable  cranes  called  the  "companion  birds," 
which  live  in  flocks  on  marshy  ground  and  when  alarmed 
form  quadrille  sets  and  dance.  Really  they  appear  to  be 
going  through  the  figures  of  the  "lancers,"  a  dance  very 
popular  fifty  years  ago. 

There  are  no  native  songbirds,  but  the  Australian  magpie 
learns  to  talk  with  great  facility,  and  his  voice  is  much  more 
human  than  that  of  the  average  parrot.  The  magpies  which 
nest  near  human  habitations  often  repeat  the  words  they 
hear  children  use  while  at  play,  and  when  miles  away  from 
any  settlement  the  stranger,  riding  alone  through  the  bush, 
feels  rather  a  creepy  sensation  when  he  is  told  by  an  invisi- 
ble and  almost  human  voice  to  "leave  something  alone,"  or 
receives  an  invitation  "to  play."  These  birds  when  nesting 
are  very  savage  and  will  attack  a  man  who  even  passes  near 
the  tree  where  their  nests  are.  I  once  saw  a  man  who  had 
had  his  face  and  neck  terribly  lacerated  and  his  cap  torn  to 
shreds  by  a  couple  of  them. 

The  ugly  "lyre"  or  "bower"  bird,  with  the  beautiful  tail 
whose  feathers  form  a  very  good  imitation  of  a  lyre,  is  also 
something  of  a  mimic,  and  by  making  sounds  resembling  the 
chopping  of  wood,  or  the  squeaking  of  wagon  wheels,  he 


Curious  Australian  Birds  451 

entices  the  weary  traveler  (who  about  sundown  is  searching 
for  a  place  to  camp)  from  the  trail,  and  the  trails  are  so 
faintly  marked  that,  once  departed  from,  the  wayfarer  is 
lost;  worse  than  that,  he  will  never  find  the  water  he  im- 
agined must  be  near  the  camp  whose  sounds  had  been  imi- 
tated by  the  bird.  One  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  lyre  bird 
is  that  he  is  somewhat  of  a  landscape  gardener,  and  makes 
himself  quite  a  pretty  bower  in  which  he  places  all  sorts  of 
bright-colored  pebbles.  Why  he  builds  the  bower,  unless  it 
is  for  a  playground,  has  never  been  explained,  as  the  bird 
builds  its  nest,  and  deposits  its  eggs,  in  entirely  different 
places. 

The  "laughing  jackass"  is  an  unfailing  source  of  amuse- 
ment to  the  natives  as  well  as  to  strangers.  This  brownish 
bird  is  about  the  size  of  a  small  pigeon,  and  consists  mostly 
of  a  head  which  is  larger  than  his  body  and  ridiculous  little 
tail  combined.  His  bill  is  shaped  like  that  of  a  duck,  and 
his  laugh  is  infectious.  About  sundown  a  dozen  or  more  of 
them  can  be  seen  sitting  on  the  dead  limb  of  a  tree  near 
some  barn,  and  one  of  them  will  begin  to  croon  as  though  he 
were  telling  his  friends  a  funny  story,  and  when  he  evi- 
dently reaches  the  point  of  the  joke,  the  others  burst  into 
hilarious  laughter  sounding  wonderfully  like  the  mirth  of  a 
lot  of  aged  men.  The  laughing  jackass  is  protected  by  law, 
as  he  not  only  is  a  good  scavenger,  but  he  is  also  a  good 
ratter  and  mouser.  He  is,  too,  the  deadly  enemy  of  snakes, 
of  which  there  is  no  non-poisonous  variety  in  Australia.  He 
soars  high  in  the  air  when  hunting  for  reptiles,  and  when 
he  espies  his  prey  he  lets  himself  fall  out  of  the  skies  and 
comes  tumbling  down  in  the  same  manner  that  a  pelican 
does-  when  fishing,  only  the  laughing  jackass  hits  solid 
ground  instead  of  yielding  water,  and  the  sound  of  his  little 
body  hitting  the  earth  can  be  heard  quite  a  distance  away. 
When  he  rises  in  the  air  again  the  snake  can  be  seen  dan- 
gling from  his  talons  while  in  small  circles  the  bird  attains 
a  great  height.    When  he  decides  that  he  has  reached  the 


452        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

proper  altitude  for  his  purpose,  he  lets  the  snake  drop  and 
comes  tumbling  down  after  it,  at  the  same  time  giving 
utterance  to  screams  of  laughter.  This  performance  is  re- 
peated until  the  reptile  is  dead.  I  had  one  of  these  birds  in 
my  garden  as  a  pet,  and  every  time  I  passed  by  him  he 
laughed  at  me  until  I  became  quite  sensitive  on  the  subject 
of  his  disrespectful  conduct. 

But  the  most  wonderful  bird  (or  should  I  call  it  animal?) 
of  Australia  is  the  "Ornithoryncus"  or  "Platibus,"  as  it  is 
commonly  called.  This  strange  creature  has  a  body  formed 
somewhat  like  that  of  a  small  beaver.  Its  fur  is  of  almost  as 
fine  a  texture  as  that  of  a  seal.  It  has  the  bill  of  a  duck  and 
its  four  feet  are  webbed  and  shaped  like  those  of  a  duck.  It 
lays  eggs,  and  is  amphibious ! 


CHAPTER  LIV 

Sir  Henry  Loch  gives  a  fancy-dress  ball  in  honor  of  the  Queen's  Jubilee  — 
The  Melbourne  Exhibition — Return  to  America  via  Suez  Canal — Visit  to  the 
"Isle  of  France"  (Mauritius)  —  Paul  and  Virginia  must  have  sat  down  hard 
—  Return  to  Melbourne  —  Secretary  of  State  appoints  a  naval  officer  to  take 
charge  of  appropriation  for  American  exhibit  —  First  World's  Fair  Commis- 
sion ever  to  turn  back  a  balance  into  the  Treasury  —  Receive  a  medal  — 
Leave  Australia  —  Authorize  captain  of  the  Mariposa  to  return  to  Sydney  — 
Samoans  as  swimmers  —  Resign. 

With  the  year  1887  came  the  preparations  and  festivi- 
ties for  the  celebration  of  Queen  Victoria's  Jubilee,  which 
were  opened  at  Government  House  by  one  of  the  grandest 
fancy-dress  balls  that  had  ever  taken  place  in  Australia. 
All  of  the  costumes  of  the  dealers  were  engaged  long  before 
the  great  event,  and  even  the  theatres  closed  their  doors 
that  night  because  the  actors  had  no  costumes  left,  as  the 
management  had  lent  them  all  to  swells  who  wanted  to 
attend  the  ball.  I  was  one  of  those  who  could  not  procure 
a  fancy  dress  from  either  costumer  or  theatre,  but  not  will- 
ing to  acknowledge  myself  beaten,  I  went  home  and  brought 
out  a  Mexican  sombrero,  serape,  and  a  pair  of  brass  spurs 
which  I  had  kept  since  the  days  I  was  in  Mexico,  and  these, 
with  a  pair  of  black  trousers  slashed  up  the  side  from  foot 
to  knee  and  trimmed  with  gold  lace,  a  piece  of  clothes-line 
for  a  lasso,  and  some  long  false  hair  hanging  from  the 
sombrero  to  below  my  shoulders,  made  me  a  very  good  imi- 
tation of  the  Mexican  vaquero  or  cowboy.  My  get-up  was  pro- 
nounced the  success  of  the  evening,  and  I  was  followed  by  a 
throng  of  the  curious  who  wanted  to  know  what  character 
I  represented,  what  the  lasso  was  for,  and  why  I  wore  spurs 
with  rowels  as  big  as  silver  dollars  and  with  bells  on  them. 

Some  time  previous  to  this  ball,  at  the  solicitation  of  Sir 
Henry  Loch,  I  had  recommended  to  the  State  Department 
the  advisability  of  an  appropriation  for  an  American  ex- 
hibit at  the  great  World's  Fair  which  was  shortly  to  take 


454        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

place  in  Melbourne,  and  Congress  had  appropriated  the 
necessary  money. 

The  health  of  my  wife,  never  very  good,  about  this  time 
became  so  bad  that  her  attending  physicians  advised  me  to 
lose  no  time  in  taking  her  home.  We  took  passage  on  a  French 
steamer  and  returned  home  via  the  Suez  Canal,  stopping 
on  the  way  at  Adelaide,  South  Australia,  Mauritius,  or 
Isle  of  France,  Reunion,  which  in  the  days  of  the  French 
monarchy  was  known  as  the  "Isle  de  Bourbon,"  the  Sey- 
chelles Islands,  Aden,  in  Arabia,  Suez,  and  from  thence 
through  the  Mediterranean  to  Messina,  and,  passing  be- 
tween Corsica  and  Sardinia,  disembarked  at  Marseilles, 
from  which  place  we  went  to  the  Riviera. 

I  must  mention  that  while  at  Mauritius  we  visited 
the  wonderful  Botanic  Gardens,  and  the  attendant  who 
accompanied  us  through  the  grounds,  with  a  perfectly 
straight  face  pointed  out  the  identical  stone  bench  upon 
which  "Paul  and  Virginia"  had  sat!  They  must  have  sat 
a  long  time  judging  from  the  two  hollows  worn  in  the  stone. 

From  the  Riviera  we  went  to  Paris,  and  after  a  short  stay 
proceeded  to  Havre,  where  we  took  a  French  steamer,  and 
after  a  most  boisterous  voyage  arrived  in  New  York  at  the 
commencement  of  the  great  blizzard  of  March,  1888. 

In  April,  1888,  I  had  to  return  to  Australia,  via  San 
Francisco,  alone,  but  before  doing  so  I  went  to  Washington 
to  pay  my  respects  to  the  President  and  to  the  Secretary  of 
State.  Mr.  Cleveland,  of  course,  was  very  courteous;  I  ex- 
pected that;  but  I  was  greatly  surprised  at  the  cordiality 
with  which  Mr.  Bayard  received  me;  in  fact,  he  became  quite 
confidential  during  the  interview  and  impressed  upon  me 
the  necessity  of  trying  to  curb  the  extravagance  of  the  com- 
missioners to  the  exhibition,  of  whom  I  was  one  {ex  officio), 
recently  appointed  to  represent  the  country  at  the  Mel- 
bourne World's  Fair.  He  told  me  that  "these  commissions 
had  become  a  stench  in  the  nostrils  of  the  nation,  as  it  was 
their  custom  to  throw  away  the  money  they  were  authorized 


The  World's  Fair  at  Melbourne         455 

to  expend,  and  then  come  back  to  Congress  for  another  ap- 
propriation to  pay  the  bills  with."  I  suggested  that  if  he 
would  put  the  funds  into  the  hands  of  a  naval  officer,  ac- 
customed to  disbursing  large  sums  of  money,  this  danger 
might  be  easily  avoided.  Mr.  Bayard  seized  upon  the  idea 
with  avidity,  and  asked  me  to  accompany  him  to  the  office 
of  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy.  On  our  way  through  the  cor- 
ridors I  saw  Lieutenant  Marix,  and  told  the  Secretary  that 
this  officer  had  recently  been  at  Melbourne  in  the  sloop-of- 
war  Enterprise,  and  Mr.  Bayard  asked  me  to  introduce  him. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy  had  ordered  Mr. 
Marix  to  report  for  special  duty  to  the  Secretary  of  State. 
The  result  of  this  appointment  was  not  only  a  success,  but 
it  also  was  very  amusing. 

When  the  commissioners  reached  Melbourne,  all  business 
men,  having  private  axes  to  grind,  they  proceeded  to  busi- 
ness at  once  and  held  a  meeting,  to  which  I  was  not  in- 
vited, and  decided  that  they  would  divide  the  appropriation 
into  as  many  parts  as  there  were  commissioners,  and  that 
each  one  should  take  charge  of  a  special  department,  and 
be  responsible  for  his  share  of  the  money.  That  being  set- 
tled, they  called  on  me  with  a  demand  that  I  turn  the 
funds  over  to  them.  I  never  saw  a  madder  set  of  men  than 
they  were  when  I  told  them  that  I  had  nothing  to  do  with 
the  money,  and  that  it  was  not  only  not  in  my  keeping, 
but  in  that  of  a  naval  officer,  who,  acting  under  the 
orders  of  the  Secretary  of  State,  would  attend  to  the  dec- 
oration of  the  hall  and  arrangement  of  the  exhibit  as  well  as 
the  disbursement  of  alt  funds,  and  save  them  all  trouble  in 
that  respect.  But  the  result  was  that,  for  the  first  time 
in  the  history  of  American  commissions  to  world  fairs,  every 
bill  was  paid  and  a  large  balance  returned  to  the  United 
States  Treasury! 

As  an  exhibition  the  World's  Fair  at  Melbourne  was  a 
great  success,  but  unfortunately  the  Australians  became 
possessed  of  a  craze  for  real  estate  speculation.   The  price 


456   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

of  land,  miles  from  the  City  Hall,  was  run  up  to  fabulous 
prices,  the  purchasers  never  stopping  to  inquire  where  the 
necessary  population  was  to  come  from  to  build  on  the  lots 
for  which  they  paid  so  dearly.  The  madness  dimmed  the 
business  vision  of  all  classes,  with  the  result  that  when  the 
exhibition  closed  and  the  strangers  went  home,  there  fol- 
lowed a  panic  which  brought  ruin  to  thousands  of  unfortu- 
nately credulous  people  of  moderate  means  as  well  as  to 
some  of  the  wealthiest  families  in  the  country. 

After  the  fair  was  over,  through  the  United  States  State 
Department,  I  received  a  most  artistic  and  beautiful  medal 
in  recognition  of  my  endeavors  to  promote  the  success  of 
the  undertaking. 

In  September,  1888,  I  left  Australia  on  the  steamship 
Mariposa  (Spanish  for  "butterfly")  bound  for  San  Fran- 
cisco. It  was  lucky  for  the  captain  that  I  was  on  board,  for 
when  we  arrived  at  Auckland,  New  Zealand,  he  received  a 
cablegram  urging  him  to  return  to  Sydney  to  take  command 
of  one  of  the  company's  ships  the  captain  of  which  had 
met  with  some  accident.  This  could  not  be  done  without 
the  consent  of  the  consul-general,  as  the  vessel  was  under 
the  American  flag.  After  consultation  with  the  captain 
and  mate,  and  having  satisfied  myself  that  the  latter  had 
a  master's  certificate,  and  was  in  every  way  competent,  I 
took  this  grave  responsibility  on  myself  and  allowed  the 
captain  to  leave. 

At  the  island  of  Tutuila,  one  of  the  Samoan  group,  I  wit- 
nessed a  thrilling  and  most  interesting  sight.  A  schooner 
from  Apia  always  met  the  steamer  at  Tutuila  with  the  mail 
for  the  United  States.  We  passed  her  a  hawser  and  unfortu- 
nately it  slacked  up  and  became  entangled  in  our  propeller. 
The  sea  was  smooth  and  the  water  was  very  clear,  permit- 
ting us  to  see  down  to  quite  a  depth.  Around  the  vessels 
were  several  canoes  filled  with  natives,  both  men  and  women 
being  as  naked  as  the  day  they  were  born.  A  dozen  or  more 


The  Samoans  as  Swimmers  457 

had  come  on  board  of  the  steamer  bringing  fans,  sea  beans, 
and  other  trifles  to  sell.  Our  captain  offered  to  pay  the  men 
if  they  would  dive  down  and  cut  the  hawser  free  from  the 
screw.  They  jumped  at  the  chance  of  making  a  little  easy 
money,  and  being  supplied  with  knives,  they  plunged  over- 
board, one  at  a  time,  and  proceeded  to  saw  away  on  the 
heavy  cable.  They  seemed  to  be  able  to  stay  below  the  sur- 
face for  an  extraordinary  length  of  time,  and  as  fast  as  one 
man  would  come  to  the  surface  another  would  go  down  and 
continue  the  work.  Suddenly  those  of  us  who  were  watch- 
ing the  performance  were  horrified  to  see  two  immense 
sharks  approach  the  man  at  work.  The  attention  of  the  cap- 
tain, who  had  spent  many  years  on  the  Pacific,  was  called 
to  the  monsters.  The  captain  only  laughed,  and  said  that 
if  the  Samoan  was  a  white  man  he  would  already  have  been 
eaten,  but,  he  added,  "Sharks  are  not  cannibals,  and  they 
won't  harm  their  brother  who  is  half  fish  himself."  The 
sequel  proved  the  captain  to  be  right,  for  while  we  stood 
at  the  taffrail  anxiously  watching  the  terrors  of  the  sea,  one 
of  the  sharks  approached  the  man  at  work,  and  was  so  near 
to  him  that  he  appeared  to  be  smelling  him,  and  the  only 
notice  the  Samoan  took  of  the  great  fish  was  to  put  his 
hand  on  its  nose  and  shove  it  away. 

As  soon  as  the  mail  bags  were  safely  on  board,  and  the 
screw  was  freed  from  its  entanglement,  we  proceeded  at  full 
speed.  The  native  canoes  made  no  attempt  to  follow  us, 
and  the  Samoans  on  our  ship's  deck  seemed  perfectly  un- 
concerned as  they  stood  patiently  waiting  for  a  purchaser 
for  their  wares.  They  asked  no  one  to  buy,  and  accepted 
any  money  offered  and  gleefully  parted  with  their  property. 
The  ship  was  making  about  fourteen  knots  and  Tutuila, 
although  a  high  island,  was  fast  sinking  out  of  sight  behind 
the  horizon,  when  first  one  and  then  another  of  the  "men 
fish"  looked  toward  his  home.  Quietly  laying  their  Wares 
on  the  deck  they  deliberately  walked  to  the  rail  and  dived, 
head  first,  into  the  sea.   By  this  time  we  must  have  been 


458   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

some  eight  or  more  miles  from  land,  and  on  my  expressing 
some  anxiety  about  the  islanders,  the  captain  assured  me 
that  they  ran  no  risk,  as  they  were  perfectly  capable  of  re- 
maining in  the  water  for  forty-eight  hours ! 

When  I  rejoined  my  wife  in  Washington,  D.C.,  she  was  in 
such  bad  health  that  I  decided  it  would  be  impossible  for 
her  to  return  to  Australia,  so  I  decided  to  resign  the  consul- 
generalship.  I  called  on  the  President  and  made  known  my 
decision  to  him  and  was  somewhat  surprised  when  he  re- 
quested me  to  postpone  sending  in  my  resignation  until  I 
heard  further  from  him,  and  at  the  same  time  cautioned  me 
not  to  mention  my  intention  to  any  one,  as  the  news  would 
cause  a  host  of  applicants  for  the  place  to  assemble  in  Wash- 
ington to  present  their  claims  to  the  appointment  before  he 
was  ready  to  name  my  successor,  and  that  would  cause  him 
much  inconvenience.  A  month  later  he  signified  to  me  that 
the  proper  time  had  arrived.  I  regretted  very  much  that 
family  reasons  necessitated  my  giving  up  the  lucrative  and 
congenial  office,  as  I  liked  Australia  and  the  Australians 
very  much,  and  although  a  Republican  administration  was 
about  to  come  into  power,  I  could  have  retained  the  place 
for  another  four  years  under  President  Harrison,  who  had 
been  a  classmate  and  intimate  friend  of  two  of  my  brothers 
at  Miami  University,  Ohio.  The  family  intimacy  dated  from 
before  the  days  of  the  Revolution  and  had  always  been  main- 
tained, and  besides  this  kindly  feeling,  Mrs.  Harrison,  who 
was  a  Miss  Scott,  was  named  for  one  of  my  father's  sisters. 
Then,  too,  Mr.  Blaine,  who  was  to  succeed  Mr.  Bayard  as 
Secretary  of  State,  was  a  good  friend  of  mine,  and  his  son, 
Walker,  who  was  also  to  occupy  a  position  of  influence  in  the 
Department,  was  one  of  my  intimates.  Mr.  Cleveland  ap- 
pointed as  my  successor,  Mr.  Lesesne,  of  Charleston,  South 
Carolina,  who  met  with  a  tragic  fate  before  he  had  been 
very  long  in  Australia.  His  body  was  found  floating  in 
Sydney  Harbor. 


CHAPTER  LV 

"Cedarcroft"  —  Death  of  Captain  Dawson  —  Ten  years  on  a  farm  —  Va- 
garies of  the  genus  horse  —  Australian  fox  terriers. 

When  my  daughter  Frederica  was  born,  both  she  and 
her  mother  were  so  delicate  that  I  was  advised  to  take  them 
into  the  country,  one  of  the  doctors  telling  me  frankly  that 
it  was  the  best  thing  to  do,  but  that  he  doubted  if  either  of 
them  would  be  alive  in  six  weeks.  I  bought  a  farm  called 
"  Cedarcroft,"  near  Gaithersburg,  Maryland,  and  moved  my 
little  family  there  and  never  had  cause  to  regret  it,  as  the 
open-air  life  restored  both  wife  and  child  to  health. 

We  had  hardly  got  comfortably  settled  on  the  farm  when 
I  was  summoned  by  telegraph  to  Charleston,  South  Caro- 
lina, as  a  most  horrible  tragedy  had  occurred  there  result- 
ing in  the  death  of  my  dear  friend  and  brother-in-law,  Cap- 
tain Francis  Warrington  Dawson,  editor  of  the  Charleston 
"News  and  Courier."  My  sister,  Mrs.  Dawson,  was  in  the 
habit  of  making  frequent  visits  to  Europe,  and  on  one  of 
these  trips  she  had  brought  back  with  her  a  very  pretty 
Swiss  nursemaid.  Just  around  the  corner  from  where  Cap- 
tain Dawson  lived  was  the  home  of  a  Dr.  McDow  and  his 
family.  The  back  yards  of  the  two  houses  adjoined  each 
other.  One  day  the  nursemaid  complained  to  Captain  Daw- 
son that  whenever  she  went  out  with  his  children  Dr. 
McDow  accosted  her  on  the  streets  and  forced  his  atten- 
tions on  her,  and  that  she  wanted  a  stop  put  to  the  an- 
noyance. Captain  Dawson  was  very  indignant,  and  said 
that  he  was  going  to  see  McDow  and  forbid  him  speaking  to 
the  girl  again  while  she  was  accompanying  his  children.  He 
was  seen  to  enter  McDow's  office,  which  was  on  the  ground 
floor  of  his  residence,  but  Captain  Dawson  never  came 
out  again  alive.    What  actually  happened  in  that  office 


460        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

only  Dr.  McDow  knew.  He  was  alone  in  the  house,  as  his 
family  was  absent  at  the  time.  At  his  trial  the  doctor  testi- 
fied that  Dawson  came  into  the  office,  where  he,  McDow, 
was  seated  at  his  desk,  and  not  only  used  abusive  language, 
but  raised  his  cane  to  strike  him,  and  that  he,  McDow,  in 
self-defense,  seized  a  pistol  which  was  lying  in  an  open 
drawer  at  his  right  hand,  and  fired,  with  the  result  that 
Captain  Dawson  fell,  mortally  wounded.  The  singular  part 
of  this  story  was  that  the  autopsy  showed  that  the  bullet 
had  entered  Captain  Dawson's  body  from  behind.  To  the 
astonishment  of  the  country  at  large  the  trial  resulted  in 
a  miscarriage  of  justice  through  a  mistrial  and  Dr.  McDow 
was  set  free. 

Captain  Dawson  had  a  strong  character;  in  fact,  he  was  a 
masterful  man.  He  had  many  friends,  and  more  enemies. 
His  caustic  editorials  in  the  "  News  and  Courier"  were  much 
admired  by  some,  but  the  bee  on  the  end  of  his  pen  had 
stung  many  others.  He  had  undoubtedly  done  as  much  as, 
and  probably  more  than,  any  other  man  to  free  South 
Carolina  from  the  carpetbag  yoke,  but  when  the  editorial 
lion  was  dead,  the  political  hyenas  whose  aspirations  he 
had  failed  to  further  gathered  at  his  grave  to  growl  and  snarl 
over  his  dead  body,  and  it  was  probably  owing  to  this  bitter 
feeling  that  his  murder  went  unavenged.  Some  years  after 
the  horrible  tragedy,  Dr.  McDow  was  found  dead  in  his 
house  where  he  was  living  alone. 

Sad  at  heart  over  the  loss  of  my  brother-in-law  and  best 
of  friends,  and  the  bereavement  of  my  sister  and  her  son 
and  daughter,  I  returned  to  my  Maryland  farm.  For  ten 
long  years  I  devoted  my  time  to  farming  and  the  breeding 
of  horses  with  rather  worse  than  indifferent  success.  When 
I  started  the  business  it  seemed  as  though  a  craze  had  pos- 
sessed all  the  young  men  of  fortune  in  the  country  to  set  up 
large  breeding  establishments,  with  the  result  that  horses 
became  a  drug  on  the  market. 

I  wonder  if  any  one  ever  understood  the  workings  of  a 


Vagaries  of  the  Horse  461 

horse's  mind,  or  instinct,  as  some  prefer  to  call  it?  The  staid 
and  sober  old  family  horse  who  will  with  the  utmost  sang- 
froid walk  up  to  a  locomotive  and  smell  it,  or  who  will  re- 
fuse to  become  interested  in  blasting  operations  going  on 
near  him,  or  who  will  go  to  sleep  while  the  racing  horses 
drag  a  fire  engine  with  its  clanging  bells  by  him  on  the 
street,  will  throw  a  dozen  fits,  go  into  convulsions,  and 
smash  things  generally  if  he  sees  a  piece  of  paper  on  the 
ground,  or  when  a  chicken  flies  across  the  road  in  front  of 
him.  I  attended  to  the  breaking  of  my  colts  myself,  and 
they  usually  afforded  enough  excitement  to  prevent  my 
suffering  from  ennui.  Runaways  and  smash-ups  were  of 
frequent  occurrence  and  were  regarded  as  being  in  the  day's 
work.  One  day,  while  driving  a  very  gentle  colt  to  a  light 
sulky,  the  ubiquitous  chicken  ran  across  the  road  in  front 
of  him  with  the  usual  result.  The  colt  jumped  sideways  and 
fell,  overturning  the  two-wheeled  vehicle  and  throwing  me 
out,  landing  me  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  ditch  with  the  colt 
on  top  of  me.  When  the  colt  struggled  to  his  feet  he  stood 
for  a  few  moments  with  one  hind  foot  planted  on  my  breast. 
I  was  almost  suffocated,  and  for  an  instant  thought  that  the 
bones  would  be  crushed  in  by  the  weight  of  the  animal ;  but 
he  was  a  kindly  creature  and  seemed  to  know  he  was  hurting 
me,  as  he,  with  deliberation,  lifted  his  foot  from  my  chest 
and  put  it  down  alongside  of  my  face.  With  all  that  tangled 
mass  of  broken  harness  hanging  from  the  young  animal,  I 
did  not  know  at  what  moment  a  kicking  exhibition  would 
commence,  and  slowly  raised  myself  to  a  sitting  position 
and  inched  myself  out  of  immediate  danger.  A  violent  fit 
of  coughing,  followed  by  the  expectoration  of  a  quantity  of 
blood,  left  me  feeling  quite  weak,  but  I  managed  to  get  the 
colt  out  of  the  ditch,  and  the  only  memento  I  now  have  of 
my  narrow  escape  from  death  is  a  protuberance  of  bone  as 
big  as  the  end  of  my  thumb  which  adorns  the  end  of  one  of 
my  upper  ribs. 

I  had  brought  several  fox  terriers  from  Melbourne,  and  as 


462   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

these  dogs  had  never  before  seen  snow  it  was  amusing  to  see 
them  grab  a  mouthful,  and  when  the  cold  bit  their  tongues, 
lose  their  tempers  and  proceed  to  fight  it.  There  are  no  non- 
poisonous  snakes  in  Australia,  and  when  a  blade  of  grass, 
moved  by  the  breeze,  rustled  against  another,  these  little 
animals  would  make  a  leap  as  though  they  were  being  shot 
out  of  a  catapult,  so  instinctively  afraid  were  they  of  snakes. 
Fox  terriers  at  the  time  happened  to  be  the  fad  in  dogs,  and 
I  bred  them  for  profit.  At  times  I  would  have  between 
twenty  and  thirty  of  these  active,  nervous,  little  creatures 
on  the  farm,  and  life  to  them  meant  one  continuous  rat 
hunt  in  the  barn  varied  by  wild  chases  after  rabbits  and 
strange  curs.  Any  one  who  has  ever  kept  one  fox  terrier 
can  imagine  the  din  in  which  we  lived  with  twenty-five  on 
the  premises. 


CHAPTER  LVI 

Visit  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis  in  New  York  —  Accompany  Mrs.  Davis  to  Rich- 
mond—  Unveiling  of  the  memorial  window  to  Mr.  Davis —  Make  the  oration 
at  the  unveiling  of  the  statuette  to  Mr.  Davis  in  the  Confederate  Museum  — 
The  old  Confederate  "White  House"  —  Present  my  sword  and  letters  from 
President  Davis  and  General  Lee  to  the  Museum  —  Letter  from  Mrs.  Davis 
on  the  subject  of  Prince  Polignac's  canard  about  his  mission  to  France  for 
the  purpose  of  selling  the  State  of  Louisiana. 

In  1897,  I  went  to  visit  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis  in  New 
York.  She  was  then  living  at  the  Girard  Hotel,  by  no 
means  a  fashionable  hostelry,  but  the  best  the  poor  lady, 
who  was  supporting  herself  by  her  pen,  could  afford.  I  had 
last  seen  Mrs.  Davis  when  she  visited  Mr.  Trenholm's  fam- 
ily in  Charleston,  South  Carolina,  in  1867.  At  that  time 
she  was  a  middle-aged  woman  in  splendid  health.  She  was 
tall  and  her  figure  showed  strength  and  activity  in  her  ev- 
ery movement.  Imagine  what  a  shock  it  was  to  me  to  see 
coming  into  the  room  an  old  lady,  bent  with  sorrow  and 
physical  suffering,  who  walked  with  the  assistance  of  a 
cane.  But  the  shock  which  her  appearance  gave  me  was 
no  greater  than  the  change  that  time  had  wrought  in  me 
caused  her.  I  advanced  to  meet  her,  and  she  placed  her 
hands  on  my  shoulders  and  kissed  me,  then,  holding  me  at 
arm's  length,  she  earnestly  gazed  at  my  face  for  a  moment 
and  suddenly  exclaimed:  "Jimmy!  my  child!  What  have 
you  done  to  your  pretty  brown  hair?"  She  told  me  that 
nothing  had  made  her  realize  so  vividly  her  own  age  as  the 
sight  of  my  white  hair,  as  she  had  always  thought  of  me 
as  a  laughing,  romping  boy,  who,  with  her  youngest  brother, 
was  always  in  some  kind  of  mischief. 

When  the  memorial  window  to  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis,  in 
St.  Paul's  Church  in  Richmond,  was  to  be  unveiled,  in 
April,  1898,  Colonel  Burton  N.  Harrison,  Mr.  Davis's  former 


464        Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

private  secretary,  and  I  were  invited  to  accompany  Mrs. 
Davis  to  the  former  capital  of  the  Confederacy.  It  was  not 
a  cheerful  trip,  for  we  could  not  help  but  remember  that 
former  painful  journey  that  we  had  taken  together  when 
Richmond  fell  and  the  hopes  of  the  Southern  people  were 
annihilated.  Try  as  we  would  we  could  find  no  topic  of 
conversation  that  would  not  lead  us  back  to  memories  of 
our  loved  ones  who  had  passed  away  since  the  stormy  days 
of  the  war,  or  recollections  of  the  gallant  heroes  we  had 
known  who  had  died  for  what  they  thought  was  the  cause  of 
the  right. 

At  the  unveiling  I  found  it  difficult  to  fix  my  attention 
upon  the  religious  services  of  the  moment,  as  my  memory 
surged  backward  to  a  time  some  forty  years  previously  when 
I  sat  in  the  same  church  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Trenholm 
and  listened  to  its  much-loved  old  rector,  Dr.  Minnegerode, 
with  his  strong  German  accent,  pray  fervently  for  the 
success  of  our  arms ;  and  when  my  attention  would  wan- 
der, as  wander  sometimes  it  did,  my  eyes  would  frequently 
rest  upon  the  bowed  heads  of  such  historical  personages 
as  President  Davis,  General  Lee,  "Stonewall"  Jackson, 
J.  E.  B.  Stuart,  and  many  other  officers  of  high  rank  and 
fame  who  usually  attended  services  there  when  they  were 
in  Richmond  for  the  day. 

The  day  after  the  unveiling  of  the  memorial  window,  I 
was  invited  to  make  the  speech  in  presenting  a  statuette  of 
Mr.  Davis,  which  had  been  given  to  the  ladies  in  charge  of 
the  Confederate  Museum,  which  occupies  the  former  resi- 
dence of  the  Confederacy's  chief.  I  could  only  with  difficulty 
control  my  emotion  as  I  spoke,  for  that  house,  where  as  a 
young  midshipman  I  had  romped  with  "Jeff"  Howell,  Mrs. 
Davis's  youngest  brother,  and  where  I  had  spent  so  many 
happy  days  when  off  duty,  was  now  filled  with  ghosts  of  the 
past.  The  ladies  connected  with  the  Museum  were  very 
kind  to  me,  and  I  felt  very  much  complimented  when  they 
requested  me  to  present  to  the  Museum  the  Confederate 


Prince  Polignac's  Canard  465 

regulation  naval  sword,  which  I  wore  when  I  accompanied 
Mrs.  Davis  South.  The  sword  was  made  in  England,  and 
had  the  cotton  plant  chased  on  one  side  of  the  blade,  and 
the  tobacco  plant  on  the  other;  also  the  first  Confederate 
flag  (the  "Stars  and  Bars")  and  the  naval  coat  of  arms  — 
two  crossed  cannon  and  a  fouled  anchor.  This  sword  now 
hangs  in  the  "Louisiana"  room  of  the  Confederate  "White 
House." 

Prince  Polignac,  a  French  officer,  served  for  a  time  in  the 
Confederate  Army.  Mr.  Jefferson  Davis  appointed  him  a 
brigadier-general  and  sent  him  to  Louisiana  to  serve  under 
Mr.  Davis's  brother-in-law,  General  "Dick"  Taylor,  com- 
manding the  Southern  troops  in  that  part  of  the  country. 
Prince  Polignac,  being  a  foreigner,  had  an  advantage  over 
the  native-born  soldiers  in  that  he  could  quit  when  he 
got  tired.  A  wearied  feeling  came  over  him  in  the  latter 
part  of  1864,  when  things  were  looking  rather  gloomy  for 
the  Confederacy,  and  he  returned  to  "la  belle  France,"  as 
he  had  a  perfect  right  to  do.  As  distance  always  "lends  en- 
chantment to  the  view,"  Polignac  after  a  few  years  began 
to  imagine  himself  a  second  Lafayette  as  well  as  the  real  hero 
of  the  Confederate  Army.  In  carrying  out  the  resemblance 
to  Lafayette,  he  proposed  to  revisit  America  after  thirty 
years  and  make  a  triumphal  tour  of  the  Southern  States. 
He  really  seemed  to  labor  under  the  hallucination  that  he 
had  won  the  independence  of  the  Southern  Confederacy. 
But  that  was  not  the  only  illusion  he  labored  under.  In  1901, 
unable  longer  to  bear  the  strain  of  an  impossible  state  secret 
whose  weight  he  had  staggered  under  for  forty  years,  he 
confided  to  a  newspaper  reporter  the  story  of  Jefferson 
Davis's  treachery  and  meditated  treason,  and  told  how  he, 
Polignac,  had  been  sent  to  France  by  Mr.  Davis  to  offer  to 
the  Emperor  Napoleon  III  the  State  of  Louisiana  in  return 
for  military  assistance  in  the  struggle  then  going  on  be- 
tween the  North  and  South.  I  sent  the  newspaper  clipping 
to  Mrs.  Davis  and  received  the  following  reply:  — 


466   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

Hotel  Girard,  New  York, 
123  West  Forty-Fourth  Street, 
March  21,  1901. 

My  dear  Jimmie:  — 

Your  letter  was  a  great  surprise  to  me  and  I  have  sent  it  with 
the  slip  to  Mr.  Reagan.  I  should  have  asked  Burton  Harrison  for 
his  memories  in  the  matter,  but  knew  the  whole  statement  false, 
and  even  if  it  had  not  been,  Harrison  would  not  have  known 
anything  about  a  matter  necessarily  of  so  private  a  nature.  The 
matters  of  State  were  not,  of  course,  confided  to  him,  so  Mr. 
Reagan  will  answer  the  accusation  definitely  and  brand  it  as  a 
scandalous  invention  of  some  one.  That  some  thoughtless  men 
might  have  collogued  together  is  barely  possible,  but  not  probable, 
as  if  we  had  been  reduced  to  such  a  strait  the  French  Government 
would  have  known  Mr.  Davis  could  not  give  France  territory 
already  on  the  eve  of  being  captured  from  us,  and  such  an  agree- 
ment or  offer  would  have  been  utterly  worthless. 

Even  the  man  who  writes  does  not  certify  to  Mr.  Davis  or  the 
Confederate  Government  having  sent  Prince  Polignac  on  such  a 
mission.  Who  else  had  the  right?  This  is  a  ridiculus  mus,  I  sup- 
pose found  by  some  pothouse  statesman. 

Thank  you  for  your  defense  of  Mr.  Davis,  and  believe  me, 

Faithfully  your  friend, 

V.  Jefferson  Davis. 

Mr.  Reagan  was  Postmaster-General  of  the  Confederate 
Government,  and  at  the  time  Mrs.  Davis  wrote  the  fore- 
going letter  he  was  the  only  survivor  of  President  Davis's 
Cabinet.  Mrs.  Davis  sent  me  his  answer  to  the  canard 
about  the  offer  to  trade  Louisiana,  and  of  course  it  was  an 
indignant  denial  of  the  story.  Wishing  to  put  the  refutation 
of  the  impossible  falsehood  where  it  could  be  seen  by  future 
generations,  and  also  to  protect  Mr.  Davis's  memory,  I  gave 
Mr.  Reagan's  letter  to  Professor  Callahan,  the  Southern 
historian,  as  I  knew  Mrs.  Davis  wanted  it  to  have  pub- 
licity. But  Mrs.  Davis  objected  to  some  statements  that 
Professor  Callahan  had  made  concerning  her  husband 
in  some  of  his  writings,  and  when  I  informed  her  as  to 
the  disposition  I  had  made  of  the  letter  she  wrote  me  at 
once  as  follows:  — 


A  Letter  from  Mrs.  Davis  467 

Hotel  Girard,  New  York, 

123  West  Forty-Fourth  Street, 

April  9,  1898. 

My  dear  Jimmie:  — 

Yours  received.  Please  get  back  the  letter  which  you  sent  to 
Professor  Callahan ;  I  do  not  wish  him  to  have  it,  and  wish  to  pre- 
serve it  myself.  I  have  no  reason  to  suppose  that  he  will  use  it  in 
the  just  and  impartial  spirit  of  a  historian,  nor  yet  with  the  rever- 
ence due  to  my  dead  husband's  memory.  I  am  sure  you  meant  to 
perpetuate  Mr.  Reagan's  testimony  in  the  most  enduring  manner, 
but  some  of  Professor  Callahan's  utterances  convince  me  to  the 
contrary.  With  thanks  for  your  interest,  and  very  happy  over 
my  friend  Prince  Polignac's  interest  in  my  husband's  stainless 
reputation,  * 

I  am  affectionately  yours, 

V.  Jefferson  Davis. 


CHAPTER   LVII 

The  hero  of  Manila  Bay  —  Distinguished  dead  who  were  my  friends  — 
Some  learned  societies  which  have  honored  me  —  "Peace  at  any  price." 

In  1898,  I  sold  "Cedarcroft,"  my  country  place,  and 
moved  to  the  City  of  Washington  where  I  was  living  when 
the  "hero  of  Manila  Bay"  returned  to  the  capital  after  his 
brilliant  victory  and  received  an  ovation  from  his  fellow 
citizens  which  must  have  made  his  very  blood  tingle  with 
pride  and  gratification.  In  the  old  prints  the  naval  heroes 
are  always  depicted  as  standing  on  the  quarter  deck,  sword 
in  hand,  and  pointing  with  it  toward  some  indefinite  object 
in  the  distance,  but  the  picture  of  Admiral  Dewey  which 
I  saw  a  few  days  after  his  triumphal  entry  into  the  city, 
although  never  painted,  will  remain  indelibly  printed  on  my 
memory  as  long  as  life  lasts. 

My  little  daughter,  Frederica,  a  child  of  nine,  was,  like 
everybody  else,  enthusiastic  over  the  admiral,  and  her  one 
ambition  was  to  shake  hands  with  him  and  be  able  to  boast 
in  years  to  come  that  she  had  talked  with  the  great  man.  I 
was  persuaded  to  take  her  to  his  bachelor  quarters  to  satisfy 
her  longing.  The  admiral,  of  course,  was  very  kind  and 
courteous,  as  it  is  natural  for  him  to  be,  and  in  a  little  while 
he  took  the  child  into  the  next  room,  leaving  his  aide- de- 
camp and  me  to  entertain  each  other.  After  some  little 
time,  fearing  we  were  making  too  long  a  visit  and  that  the 
admiral  might  tire  of  his  little  guest,  I  went  into  the  room 
to  tell  her  it  was  time  for  us  to  say  good-bye.  As  I  entered 
the  apartment  I  beheld  as  pretty  a  picture  as  ever  eyes 
rested  upon.  There,  in  front  of  an  open  trunk,  seated  on 
the  floor,  side  by  side,  were  the  victorious  admiral  and  the 
little  girl  having  the  time  of  their  lives.  The  hero  was  busily 
pinning  his  decorations  and  medals  on  the  front  of  her  little 
dress,  and  around  her  neck  was  the  famous  diamond-studded 


Distinguished  Friends  469 

chain  of  the  magnificent  watch  which  the  City  of  Boston  had 
presented  to  him.  With  much  laughter  he  ordered  the  aide 
and  myself  to  leave  him  and  his  playmate  alone,  and  for 
nearly  an  hour  longer  continued  to  amuse  her  with  the 
treasures  the  wonderful  trunk  contained. 

I  have  other  and  sadder  memories  of  distinguished  and 
gallant  officers  whom  I  have  had  the  honor  to  number 
among  my  dear  and  personal  friends.  I  was  one  of  the  pall- 
bearers at  the  funeral  of  Major-General  Harry  Heth,  who 
commanded  a  division  in  General  Lee's  army.  General  Heth 
was  like  one  of  the  family  in  General  Lee's  house,  where  he 
had  spent  much  of  his  time  in  boyhood.  He  had  the  unique 
distinction  of  being  the  only  officer  whom  General  Lee  ever 
was  heard  to  call  by  his  first  name.  He  invariably  addressed 
both  of  his  sons,  Custis  and  Runie,  as  "General,"  but  Gen- 
eral Heth  was  always  spoken  to  as  "Harry." 

Another  dear  friend  whose  body  I  accompanied  on  its 
last  journey  was  Rear  Admiral  James  E.  Jouett,  U.S.N., 
one  of  the  most  gallant  officers  in  the  service.  He  it  was  who 
in  a  launch  boarded  and  captured  the  Confederate  gunboat 
Royal  Yacht  in  Galveston  Harbor,  and  afterwards  com- 
manded the  U.S.S.  Metacomet  which  was  lashed  alongside 
of  the  Hartford  at  the  battle  of  Mobile  Bay.  He  cut  loose 
from  the  Hartford  and  engaged  the  C.S.  gunboat  Selma 
and  after  a  furious  engagement  destroyed  her.  I  on  one 
occasion  heard  Mr.  Loyal  Farragut,  the  only  son  of  the 
great  admiral,  say  that  undoubtedly  Jouett  was  his  father's 
favorite  captain. 

Admiral  Jouett  died  at  the  "Anchorage,"  near  Sandy 
Springs,  Maryland,  his  favorite  place  of  residence.  I  was  in 
the  same  house  with  him  when  he  passed  away,  and  only  a 
week  or  ten  days  before  I  had  seen  that  wonderful  old  gen- 
tleman (he  was  a  good  deal  over  seventy)  on  a  moonlight 
night  out  with  his  beloved  hounds  chasing  a  fox.  None  of 
Admiral  Jouett's  immediate  family  were  with  him  when  he 


470   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

died,  as  they  were  in  Florida  at  the  time.  I  could  not  bear 
the  idea  of  the  old  hero  being  buried  from  an  undertaker's 
shop,  so  I  had  his  body  taken  to  my  residence  in  Washing- 
ton, and  from  there,  escorted  by  the  Marine  Band  and  a 
battalion  of  marines  and  sailors,  it  was  taken  to  Arlington, 
where  he  now  rests. 

As  an  ex-vice-president  of  the  Society  of  the  Sons  of  the 
Revolution  I  was  one  of  the  guard  of  honor  who  walked 
alongside  of  the  caisson  which  bore  the  remains  of  General 
Clinton,  the  fourth  Vice-President  of  the  United  States, 
and  a  Revolutionary  hero,  from  the  Congressional  Cemetery 
to  the  railway  station  on  the  occasion  of  their  removal  to 
his  native  State  of  New  York  in  1908. 

When  I  was  United  States  Consul-General  in  Melbourne, 
the  Royal  Geographical  Society  of  Australasia  did  me  the 
honor  of  making  me  a  life  member,  and  in  1904,  when  the 
Eighth  International  Geographic  Congress  met  in  Wash- 
ington, my  Australian  friends  further  honored  me  by  ap- 
pointing me  their  delegate.  The  assemblage  was  a  most 
imposing  one,  for  here  were  assembled  the  most  distinguished 
geographers  and  explorers  living  at  the  time.  When  I  was 
called  on  to  say  something,  I  felt  very  nervous  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  a  gathering,  for  while  I  had  wandered  over  a 
great  portion  of  the  globe,  I  had  not  been  any  place  that 
some  explorer  had  not  been  before  me.  So  to  avoid  ap- 
pearing silly,  I  read  to  them  a  hitherto  unpublished  diary 
of  my  great-grandfather,  Colonel  George  Morgan,  giving  a 
graphic  account  of  a  voyage  he  made  in  a  batteau  from  the 
mouth  of  the  Kaskaskia  River  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  in 
1767.  Butler  in  his  "History  of  Kentucky"  (1834)  says: 
"The  earliest  enterprise  in  navigating  the  Mississippi  by 
Americans  from  Pittsburgh  to  New  Orleans  was  indeed  one 
of  boldness.  It  was  performed  by  Colonel  Taylor,  of  Ken- 
tucky, his  brother,  and  Colonel  Linn,  who  got  as  far  as  the 
Yazoo  and  then  went  to  Georgia  with  the  Southern  Indians 
in  1769." 


Honors  from  Learned  Societies  471 

Colonel  Morgan's  voyage  was  made,  as  recorded  in  his 
diary,  two  years  previous  to  this  date,  namely,  1767;  and 
he  also  covered  the  whole  route,  returning  to  Philadelphia 
by  sea.  The  Geographic  Congress  was  much  interested  in 
the  diary  and  ordered  it  printed  in  its  "  Proceedings." 

Again,  in  1906,  the  Royal  Geographical  Society  of  Aus- 
tralasia paid  me  the  compliment  of  delegating  me  to  rep- 
resent them  at  the  celebration  of  the  two  hundredth  anni- 
versary of  the  birth  of  Benjamin  Franklin,  held  under  the 
auspices  of  the  American  Philosophical  Society  of  Phila- 
delphia, an  institution  which  was  founded  in  1743.  When 
the  delegates  were  called  to  order  it  appeared  that  most,  if 
not  all,  of  the  great  scientific  societies  and  institutions  of 
learning  in  the  world  were  represented.  Oxford,  Cam- 
bridge, the  Royal  Society  of  London,  as  well  as  many  of 
the  Continental  universities,  had  sent  some  of  their  ablest 
men  to  represent  them  and  to  do  honor  to  the  memory  of 
Benjamin  Franklin. 

Harvard,  Yale,  and  other  American  universities  and 
learned  societies  were  represented  by  such  men  as  Charles 
W.  Eliot,  Arthur  T,  Hadley,  Dr.  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  Professor 
Simon  Newcomb,  etc.  When  the  speech-making  began,  one 
of  the  delegates  addressed  the  assembly  in  Latin,  and  was 
followed  by  others  who  spoke  in  the  languages  of  their 
various  nationalities,  and  I  must  confess  that  I  felt  myself 
very  much  out  of  place  amidst  all  this  erudition  until  Mr. 
Andrew  Carnegie,  Lord  Rector  of  the  University  of  St. 
Andrew's,  mounted  the  stage  and  commenced  orating  with 
his  strong  Scotch  accent. 

In  1 9 14  I  was  invited  to  deliver  the  oration  on  the  oc- 
casion of  the  decoration  of  the  graves  of  the  Confederate 
dead  at  Winchester,  Virginia,  —  historic  Winchester,  around 
which  so  many  bloody  battles  were  fought,  and  which 
changed  hands  so  many  times  during  the  great  conflict  of 
the  Civil  War,  and  where  some  of  the  residences  to  this  day 
show  the  marks  where  shot  and  shell  struck  them. 


472   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

There  are  two  graveyards  at  Winchester,  situated  side  by- 
side,  with  only  a  narrow  footpath  separating  them.  One 
is  the  United  States  National  Cemetery,  where  sleep  the 
Federal  soldiers  who  fell  in  the  neighborhood,  and  in  the 
other  lie  the  Confederates  who  probably  killed  and  were 
killed  by  them.  It  is  a  solemn  sight,  these  brave  and  silent 
warriors  camped  alongside  of  each  other  for  all  eternity. 

I  am  doubtful  if  my  remarks  on  that  occasion  met  with 
unanimous  approval  from  my  living  audience.  I  feel  sure, 
however,  that  they  met  with  the  approval  of  the  dead  heroes 
who,  I  maintained,  had  given  up  life  and  all  that  was  dear 
to  them  in  an  effort  to  defend  and  protect  their  native  land. 
But  a  fad,  amounting  almost  to  a  religious  mania,  has  swept 
over  the  nation  in  recent  years.  It  is  called  "peace  at  any 
price"  and  is  a  menace  to  the  country.  Most  living  South- 
erners have  either  forgotten  or  never  have  experienced  bayo- 
net rule,  and  how  the  carpetbagger  and  the  negro  tyrannized 
over  us  in  the  days  of  the  so-called  "Reconstruction."  They 
seem  to  think  that  if  the  conqueror  does  come,  it  will  only 
be  like  a  change  in  national  administration,  and  that,  secure 
in  their  lives  and  property,  all  will  go  on  as  before.  These 
deluded  ' '  peace-at-any-price "  people  are  bad  enough,  but 
then  we  have  in  our  midst  the  more  dangerous  element  — 
American  braggarts  —  who  maintain  that  no  preparation 
for  war  is  necessary,  as  a  crowd  of  farmers  and  dry-goods 
clerks  armed  with  pitchforks,  scythes,  and  yardsticks,  or  a 
corporal's  guard  of  Boy  Scouts  with  their  pretty  little  staffs 
can  whip  the  British  Coldstream  Guards  and  the  Prussian 
Death 's-Head  Hussars  combined !  They  point  with  pride  to 
how  the  Confederates  built,  within  a  few  months,  ironclads 
which  fought  splendidly,  and  in  their  ignorance  nothing 
but  a  great  disaster  could  make  them  realize  that  a  single 
modern  dreadnaught  can  whip  the  Gulf  of  Mexico  full  of 
just  such  craft  as  the  Merrimac,  Albemarle,  Arkansas,  and 
Tennessee. 

They  have  entrusted  the  training  of  their  boys  entirely 


The  Peace-at-any-Price  Fad  473 

to  women,  forgetting  that  woman  follows  the  fashion 
of  the  moral  fad  of  the  hour  as  earnestly  as  she  does  the 
Parisian  styles  in  clothes,  and  is  easily  persuaded  to  take  up 
with  ecstasy  such  fads  or  myths  as  universal  peace,  and  to 
labor  conscientiously  to  instill  into  the  pliant  minds  of  her 
young  pupils  the  beautiful  and  peaceful  principles  of  turn- 
ing the  other  cheek,  or  lying  down  when  they  feel  them- 
selves being  imposed  upon.  In  fact,  deep  in  her  heart, 
there  is  nothing  a  woman  has  such  a  contempt  and  disgust 
for  as  she  has  for  a  weakling  or  a  coward,  and  when  the  fad 
of  the  day  is  war,  there  is  nothing  so  merciless  and  cruel  as 
the  female.  I  remember  seeing  the  mothers  and  grand- 
mothers of  these  same  women,  in  the  early  sixties  of  the 
last  century,  instigating  their  men-folks  to  arm  and  slay, 
and  I  distinctly  remember  how  they  would  contempt- 
uously sweep  aside  their  skirts  for  fear  they  would  be  con- 
taminated by  coming  in  contact  with  even  a  lifelong  male 
friend  who  had  dodged  going  into  the  fray.  I  also  told  the 
young  men  that  these  same  young  women,  who  held  aloft 
their  peace  banners  with  such  a  sanctimonious  air,  would 
march  off  with  the  conqueror  when  he  came,  leaving  their 
own  men,  the  creatures  of  their  fallacious  teaching,  pros- 
trate under  the  heel  of  the  victor,  bereft  of  self-respect, 
property,  and  of  all  their  good-looking  young  women.  I 
warned  them  that  wars  would  occur  in  the  future  as  they  had 
in  the  past;  that  they  had  continued,  with  short  intervals 
of  peace  (for  the  purpose  of  recuperating  their  energies), 
since  the  time  when  God  Almighty  Himself  and  his  arch- 
angel had  led  the  hosts,  to  the  day  of  Appomattox. 

I  made  my  speech  on  the  30th  of  June,  and  on  the  1st  of 
August,  thirty-two  days  later,  the  greatest  war  the  world 
has  yet  witnessed  was  begun  in  Europe. 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

The  "birth  of  a  nation"  —  Assistant  manager  of  the  Washington  branch 
of  the  International  Banking  Corporation  —  Extracts  from  a  diary  kept  on 
a  journey  to  Panama  —  Meet  my  old  classmates  Admirals  Coghlan  and  Glass, 
of  the  "brood  of  the  Constitution"  —  My  old  hulk  is  laid  up  in  ordinary 
waiting  to  be  scrapped. 

It  does  not  fall  to  the  lot  of  every  man  to  be  present  at 
the  birth  of  a  nation,  but  it  so  happened  that  I  was  present 
when  the  Republic  of  Panama  made  its  first  appearance  in 
the  family  of  —  so-called  —  independent  countries.  Presi- 
dent Roosevelt  was  the  chief  medical  attendant  in  charge 
of  the  accouchement,  with  William  Nelson  Cromwell  acting 
as  sage  femme  and  the  French  engineer,  Bunau-Varilla, 
acting  the  part  of  the  trained  nurse. 

It  so  happened  that  in  the  year  1903  I  was  the  assistant 
manager  of  the  Washington  branch  of  the  International 
Banking  Corporation.  The  high  officials  of  the  bank,  whose 
headquarters  were  in  New  York,  knew  what  was  in  the 
wind,  and  wished  to  send  a  representative  to  the  Isthmus 
to  spy  out  the  land  and  report  as  to  the  advisability  of 
establishing  branches  there.  All  of  the  bank  officials  agreed 
that  it  would  be  advisable  to  investigate  the  new  field,  but 
such  was  the  universal  fear  of  the  dreaded  yellow  fever  that 
they  all  side-stepped  the  detail.  I  volunteered  for  the  service 
and  received  the  appointment,  as  there  were  no  competitors. 

The  following  extracts,  made  from  my  diary  kept  on  the 
voyage,  may  be  of  interest:  — 

December  1,  1903.  At  11.30  A.M.  boarded  the  Panama  steam- 
ship Seguranca.  This  ship  was  the  headquarters  of  General 
Shafter  and  his  chief  of  staff,  Colonel  Miley,  during  the  Span- 
ish War.  Found  the  decks  deserted,  but  soon  saw  Mr.  Bunau- 
Varilla,  the  first  Panamanian  Minister  to  the  United  States,  come 
up  from  below.  He  continued  to  bob  up  and  down  through  the 
hatchway  until  the  ship  was  ready  to  sail.     I  wondered  at  his 


The  Birth  of  a  Nation  475 

strange  antics  until  I  learned  that  the  whole  Panama  Govern- 
ment, the  "Junta,"  was  on  board. 

-  A  man  who  holds  forth  continuously  in  the  smoking-room 
swears  that  he  took  part  in  the  last  Panama  revolution  and  that 
"so  many  men  were  killed  that  the  buzzards  would  not  touch 
any  one  under  the  rank  of  a  colonel." 

December  6.  The  "Junta,"  which  hitherto  has  remained  se- 
cluded, is  now  very  much  in  evidence  on  deck.  It  appears  that  I 
am  an  object  of  some  little  curiosity  among  them.  I  was  ap- 
proached by  Senor  Arosemina,  a  highly  educated  gentleman  with 
charming  manners,  who  evidently  intended  to  pump  me  as  to  my 
object  in  going  to  Panama  at  this  time.  He  was  very  diplomatic 
and  tactful,  but  I  made  the  work  easy  for  him  by  blurting  out 
that  "I  had  no  secrets  to  conceal.  I  represented  a  great  bank 
which  had  branches  all  over  the  world,  and  that  I  was  going  to 
the  Isthmus  to  find  out  if  it  would  pay  us  to  establish  branches 
there."  The  senor's  astonishment  at  my  frankness  was  so  great 
that  he  fairly  gasped,  and  then  he  took  his  leave. 

In  a  little  while  I  was  interviewed  by  another  member  of  the 
"Junta,"  Don  Federico  Boyd,  —  the  name  sounds  English  be- 
cause his  father  was  a  former  American  newspaper  editor  in 
Panama.  Don  Federico's  manner  was  very  different  from  that  of 
the  courtly  Arosemina.  He  appeared  to  me  to  be  very  angry,  and 
tersely  informed  me  that  under  no  circumstances  would  I  be 
permitted  to  open  a  bank  on  the  Isthmus,  and  then  he  turned 
on  his  heel  and  walked  away. 

Shortly  after  this  Senor  Arosemina  came  to  my  stateroom,  I 
suppose  for  the  purpose  of  finding  out  how  I  took  the  unpleasant 
news.  I  told  him  that  I  wanted  to  bet  that  the  United  States, 
after  all,  would  not  recognize  the  Republic  of  Panama.  As  he 
smiled  incredulously,  I  told  him  that  General  Thomas  H.  Hub- 
bard, president  of  the  International  Banking  Corporation,  was 
not  only  a  man  of  great  wealth  and  social  prominence,  but  that 
he  was  a  man  of  great  influence  in  the  councils  of  the  Republican 
Party,  and  that  as  soon  as  the  ship  reached  the  dock  in  Colon  I 
was  going  to  cable  him  that  no  American  would  be  allowed  to  do 
a  banking  business  in  the  country,  and  that  of  course  he  would 
make  the  contents  of  my  cablegram  public,  and  that  I  did  not 
believe  any  United  States  Senator  would  have  the  courage  to  vote 
for  the  recognition  of  a  country  which  would  not  allow  a  reputable 
American  banker  to  do  business  within  its  limits. 

The  senor  seemed  to  consider  my  remarks  as  of  sufficient  im- 
portance to  be  reported  to  the  "Junta,"  and  soon  I  received  a 


476   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

visit  from  the  head  of  that  august  body,  Dr.  Amador,  first  Presi- 
dent of  the  Republic  of  Panama,  who  informed  me  that  I  entirely 
misunderstood  what  Don  Federico  Boyd  had  said  to  me ;  that  the 
idea  the  latter  intended  to  convey  was  that  no  foreign  bank  would 
be  permitted  to  flood  the  country  with  its  notes,  etc.;  but  that 
while  he  did  not  think  that  a  foreign  bank  would  find  it  lucrative 
to  start  business  in  the  community,  still  if  I  wanted  to  lose  my 
money  no  one  would  prevent  me  so  long  as  I  did  not  put  any  bank- 
notes into  circulation.  As  the  International  was  not  a  bank  of 
issue,  and  as  I  had  never  mentioned  any  intention  of  putting  out 
bank-notes,  I  thought  the  explanation  very  ingenious  —  and  very 
satisfactory.  I  told  the  President  that  I  was  merely  going  to  look 
over  the  field  and  report  as  to  whether  or  not  I  considered  it  would 
be  advantageous  to  establish  branches  there.  I  afterwards  learned 
that  two  of  the  President's  daughters  were  married  to  two  sons  of 
Ehrman,  who  seemed  to  have  a  monopoly  of  the  banking  business 
of  the  country. 

Dr.  Amador  is  tall  and  straight  with  a  benign  countenance  and 
is  possessed  of  the  typical  sympathetic  manners  of  the  family 
physician.  He  is  said  to  be  universally  beloved  and  respected  by 
the  people  of  Panama. 

December  8.  Ship  rolled  and  pitched  heavily  all  night.  At  day- 
light arrived  at  Colon.  American  fleet  commanded  by  my  former 
classmate  Rear  Admiral  Joseph  B.  Coghlan  ("Jolly  Joe"),  the 
man  who  created  such  excitement  by  repeating  the  popular 
"Hoch  der  Kaiser"  rhymes,  the  refrain  of  which  is  "Me  und 
Gott,"  for  which  he  was  banished  to  Bremerton. 

About  every  half-hour  a  rain  squall  passes  over  the  place  and 
the  water  comes  down,  not  in  drops,  but  in  sheets. 

A  small  crowd  of  officials  came  to  the  dock  to  welcome  Dr. 
Amador  home.  They  seem  delighted  to  learn  that  they  have  had 
a  revolution  and  that  it  has  been  successful  (in  Washington). 
Dr.  A.  is  really  the  whole  revolution. 

At  9  a.m.  took  the  special  train  for  Panama.  Train  decorated 
with  flags.  We  had  an  ovation  all  the  way  across  the  Isthmus. 
The  train  runs  for  some  distance  along  the  banks  of  the  Chagres 
River  and  crosses  that  stream  several  times.  From  Colon  to 
Panama  there  is  an  almost  continuous  settlement  inhabited  chiefly 
by  Chinamen  and  Jamaica  negroes.  Along  the  route  of  the  pro- 
posed canal  there  lies,  going  to  ruin,  an  extraordinary  amount  of 
machinery  such  as  locomotives,  cars,  steel  rails,  etc.,  and  steam 
tugs,  dredges,  and  barges. 


DR.    M.  AMADOR 

First  President  of  the  Republic  of  Panama,  1903 


The  Panama  Revolution  477 

Arriving  at  Panama  we  found  the  city  gayly  decorated  with 
flags,  and  the  whole  Panamanian  army  was  at  the  railway  station 
to  do  honor  to  their  chief.  It  was  a  most  extraordinary  array  com- 
posed mostly  of  negroes.  There  were  tall  old  men  with  short  guns 
of  the  vintage  of  1812,  and  small  boys,  evidently  not  more  than 
fourteen  years  of  age,  carrying  old  muskets  with  enormously  long 
barrels;  their  uniforms  were  evidently  made  to  suit  the  taste  of 
the  individual  wearers,  as  no  two  were  alike,  most  of  them  being 
adorned  with  yellow,  blue,  and  red  rags  supposed  to  represent 
ribbons;  but  they  all  appeared  to  be  dirty  and  ragged.  A  band  of 
music,  however,  enlivened  the  scene  as  they  gayly  marched  off 
escorting  their  new  President  to  his  residence.  On  the  route  bombs 
were  exploded  and  fire-crackers  lavishly  popped. 

The  Hotel  Central  where  I  stopped  was  only  two  or  three  doors 
from  the  home  of  Dr.  Amador,  in  front  of  which  a  band  of  music 
and  an  enthusiastic  crowd  remained  until  9.30  p.m.  when  it 
quietly  dispersed.  The  American  idea  of  no  more  bloodshed  and 
no  more  revolutions  seems  to  rule  supreme.  "Peace  and  pros- 
perity" are  the  watchwords.  God  grant  for  these  poor  people 
that  this  dream,  which  is  so  contrary  to  their  nature,  may  come 
true. 

December  9.  The  humid,  hot  atmosphere  is  almost  stifling. 
Went  out  to  buy  a  straw  hat.  Could  not  find  a  Panama  hat  in  any 
of  the  stores.  Panamanians  don't  wear  them;  so  compromised  on 
a  straw  hat  made  in  Italy. 

Called  on  the  American  Consul-General,  who  seemed  very 
much  gratified  when  I  presented  him  with  a  personal  letter  of 
introduction  from  Mr.  John  Hay,  Secretary  of  State.  Wanting 
some  money,  armed  with  my  letter  of  credit  I  called  on  Mr. 
Henry  Ehrman,  local  king  of  finance.  The  first  question  he  asked 
me  was  as  to  whether  I  was  personally  acquainted  with  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Nelson  Cromwell,  of  New  York,  and  when  I  had  to  acknowl- 
edge that  I  did  not  have  the  honor,  I  could  plainly  see  that  he  did 
not  think  much  of  me.  Everybody  I  meet  asks  me  the  same  ques- 
tion, by  way  of  making  conversation,  and  when  I  reply  in  the 
negative  they  appear  to  lose  all  interest  in  me.  Before  leaving  the 
United  States  I  was  under  the  impression  that  President  Roosevelt 
was  the  ' '  king  pin  "in  that  country  j  ust  at  present,  but  I  find  I  am 
mistaken. 

Mr.  Ehrman  questioned  me  as  to  where  I  was  born,  and  when 
told  Louisiana,  he  seemed  delighted  to  meet  me,  and  to  my  sur- 
prise the  rich  man  told  me  that  he  had  once  carried  a  peddler's 


478   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

pack  in  that  State,  and  went  on  to  inquire  if  we  had  any  mutual 
acquaintances.  To  my  surprise  he  asked  me  if  I  knew  the  Averys 
of  Louisiana,  and  when  I  told  him  that  Judge  Avery  was  a  most 
intimate  friend  of  my  father,  and  that  I  had  been  a  schoolmate  of 
his  sons,  I  could  see  the  mercury  in  my  social  thermometer  rise 
with  a  bound  and  my  status  was  established  so  far  as  Panama  was 
concerned.  Ehrman  told  me  that  when  a  peddler  he  often  stopped 
at  Avery's  Island  and  that  the  family  were  always  very  kind  to 
him.  In  Mr.  Ehrman's  bank  there  were  coils  of  rope,  dry  goods, 
bolts  of  silk,  and  various  other  merchandise  for  sale.  I  inquired 
as  to  what  the  rate  of  exchange  was  that  day,  and  he  drew  him- 
self up  and  replied,"  Whatever  I  choose  to  make  it!"  —  and  he 
told  the  truth  too. 

While  there  a  dump  cart  loaded  with  silver  coin  stopped  in 
front  of  the  bank  and  dumped  its  contents  on  the  sidewalk,  and 
the  clerks  went  out  and  sat  around  it  while  counting  the  dollars. 
I  caused  Mr.  Ehrman  great  amusement  by  asking  him  what  rate 
of  interest  he  paid  depositors.  He  replied  that  he  "charged  them 
two  per  cent  for  taking  care  of  their  money!"  I  decided  then  and 
there  that  Panama  was  a  good  place  for  a  bank. 

I  find  that  my  name  is  not  one  to  conjure  with  here,  as  the 
legends  of  the  people  have  kept  fresh  the  memory  of  Morgan  the 
Buccaneer's  burning  of  Panama.  I  do  not  think  it  necessary  to 
tell  them  that  Sir  Henry's  name  appears  on  the  old  genealogical 
tree  brought  to  America  by  my  ancestor  who  was  the  first  of  his 
family  to  settle  there. 

After  luncheon  took  a  siesta.  All  doors  and  windows  in  the  hotel 
are  left  open.  About  3.30  p.m.  I  arose  and  was  sitting  on  the  side 
of  my  bed,  clad  only  in  gauze  undershirt  and  drawers,  when  who 
should  walk  into  my  room,  unannounced,  but  the  President  of  the 
Republic,  who,  believing  in  the  old  adage  that  it  is  "the  early 
bird  which  catches  the  worm,"  had  a  little  business,  on  the  side, 
which  he  wanted  to  see  me  about,  namely,  to  rent  me  one  of  his 
buildings  in  case  I  decided  to  establish  a  bank  in  Panama.  I 
found  it  somewhat  difficult  to  talk  business  in  a  dignified  manner 
while  en  deshabille,  especially  with  the  ruler  of  a  great  nation,  so 
I  called  his  attention  to  a  photograph  of  my  fourteen-year-old 
daughter  which  was  on  my  dressing-table,  and  before  he  ceased 
admiring  it  I  had  slipped  on  my  clothes  and  felt  myself  to  be  again 
"the  solemn  banker."  We  went  out  for  a  stroll  to  see  his  building 
and  he  also  showed  me  the  ancient  fortifications  of  the  city,  which 
were  very  interesting. 


An  Exciting  Night  479 

December  10.  The  hotel  stands  on  the  public  plaza  on  the  other 
side  of  which  is  the  Cathedral ;  near  by  is  the  Bishop's  palace,  a 
part  of  the  lower  floor  of  which  is  occupied  by  the  Panama  lottery. 
I  had  a  bad  night  of  it  and  little  sleep.  I  retired  at  10.30  p.m.  and 
found  that  there  were  as  many  mosquitoes  inside  the  net  as  there 
were  outside.  It  was  difficult  to  kill  them,  as  I  had  only  the  feeble 
light  of  a  primitive  candle.  Came  near  setting  the  hotel  on  fire, 
and  at  last  fell  asleep,  only  to  be  awakened  at  midnight  by  a  fel- 
low with  a  magnificent  baritone  voice  and  a  guitar.  He  was  sere- 
nading his  lady  love  who  lived  in  the  vicinity.  Being  old  and 
crabbed  I  said  something  that  sounded  to  me  very  much  like 

"  D n !"  and  then  went  to  sleep  again,  to  be  awakened  an  hour 

afterwards  by  firing  in  the  distance;  it  sounded  to  me  like  the  once 
familiar  picket  firing.  Going  out  on  the  piazza  I  saw  two  young 
men  in  front  of  the  park  gate  who  were  quietly  chatting  and 

smoking.   Said  "D n!"  again  and  went  back  to  bed.    It  was 

half-past  one  when  the  firing  again  awakened  me.  This  time  it 
seemed  nearer.  Went  out  on  the  piazza  and  saw  the  young  men 
(before  mentioned)  still  in  the  park,  where  they  were  still  smok- 
ing. Did  not  see  any  reason  why  I  should  get  excited  if  they  were 

not,  so  gave  vent  to  a  real  big  big  "D n"  and  went  to  bed  for 

the  third  time.  About  2  A.M.  firing  became  very  heavy  and  soldiers 
crowded  the  plaza.  Several  bullets  pattered  against  the  front  wall 
of  the  hotel.  I  could  not  believe  that  military  men  would  fire  a 
feu  dejoie  with  ball  cartridges,  so  I  jumped  up  and  hastily  dressed, 
feeling  sure  that  I  was  in  for  another  revolution.  Slipping  a 
pistol  into  my  hip  pocket  I  went  downstairs.  The  hotel  seemed 
deserted,  and  not  a  living  soul  was  to  be  seen  in  the  patio.  The 
entrance  to  the  hotel  from  the  street  was  through  a  tunnel  re- 
sembling the  sallyport  of  a  fort.  If  I  was  to  die  I  wanted  the 
finish  to  take  place  in  the  open  and  not  in  a  trap,  like  a  rat.  Know- 
ing the  great  love  (?)  of  the  natives  for  the  accursed  Yankee,  I  had 
little  doubt  as  to  what  my  fate  would  be  as  soon  as  I  was  recognized 
as  belonging  to  the  hated  race.  Judge  of  my  astonishment  when  I 
reached  the  street  and  several  men  threw  their  arms  around  me 
while  exclaiming,  "Amigo  Americano!"  I  soon  learned  that  the 
cause  of  the  commotion  was  that  the  soldiers  did  not  think  that 
sufficient  joy  had  been  shown  on  the  occasion  of  the  return  of  their 
chief  two  days  ago,  and  they  had  chosen  this  unearthly  hour 
further  to  honor  their  President. 

Dr.  Amador  appeared  on  his  front  piazza  in  response  to  their 
cheers  and  made  them  a  speech  which  was  loudly  applauded. 


480   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

There  were  "Vivas"  for  William  Nelson  Cromwell,  the  greatest 
man  in  America  (in  their  opinion),  but  none  for  Theodore  Roose- 
velt. Finally  the  soldiers  returned  peaceably  to  their  barracks, 
and  I  to  my  bed. 

I  called  to-day  on  Mr.  Dukey,  who  runs  the  lottery.  He  also 
does  a  banking  business.  He  tells  me  that  he  has  an  average  of 
fifty  thousand  dollars  on  deposit  with  him.  He  thinks  that  the 
International  will  be  ruined  if  it  establishes  a  branch  here.  But 
if  they  do  put  one  here,  he  would  like  to  take  charge  of  it  for 
a  liberal  consideration.  Also  called  on  Mr.  Brandon,  who  has  a 
combination  bank  and  store.  He  evidently  considers  himself  a 
very  important  personage  and  gave  me  a  scolding  because  I  had 
not  brought  letters  of  introduction  to  him  from  my  bank.  Also 
seemed  disgusted  that  I  was  not  acquainted  with  the  great  Crom- 
well. However,  I  placated  him  by  buying  a  box  of  cigars.  He  as- 
sured me  that  a  branch  bank  here  would  be  the  death-knell  of 
the  International,  but  that  he  would  accept  the  management  of  it 
if  the  pay  was  sufficient. 

I  went  to  see  several  foreigners  who  are  in  business,  who  pleaded 
with  me  to  establish  a  branch  here,  and  grew  eloquent  over  the 
advantages  that  would  accrue  to  the  bank  if  I  did  so. 

In  the  afternoon  Rear  Admiral  Glass,  U.S.N.,  and  United 
States  Consul-General  Gudger  called  on  me.  I  was  at  Annapolis 
with  Glass.  He  is  the  man  who  graduated  "No.  1 "  of  my  class, 
the  famous  "brood  of  the  Constitution,"  so  called  because  they 
spent  their  first  year  at  the  Naval  Academy  on  board  of  that  his- 
toric frigate. 

December  II.  Went  with  Mr.  Peet,  agent  of  the  Pacific  Steam 
Navigation  Company,  on  his  yacht  to  return  the  call  of  Admiral 
Glass.  Had  a  most  affectionate  and  warm  reception.  The  admiral 
took  us  in  his  barge  from  his  flagship  Marblehead  to  call  on  the 
captain  of  the  U.S.  monitor  Wyoming,  and  from  that  vessel  we 
went  to  H.B.M.  cruiser  Amphion,  where  we  were  very  hospi- 
tably entertained.  There  were  a  number  of  enormous  sharks 
swimming  round  these  men-of-war  waiting  for  scraps  to  be  thrown 
overboard.  There  was  one  huge  shark  in  particular  which  had  but 
one  eye;  every  sailor  that  has  ever  visited  the  port,  I  was  told, 
knew  him,  as  he  had  been  about  the  harbor  for  a  length  of  time 
beyond  the  memory  of  any  living  man.  He  was  called  "One- 
Eyed  Pete,"  and  was  said  to  be  perfectly  harmless,  but  I  did  not 
see  any  one  in  swimming  —  and  it  was  a  hot  day  too. 

December  12.   At  10  o'clock  this  morning  called  on  President 


Interesting  Facts  about  Panama         481 

Amador  and  his  Cabinet  at  the  Government  House.  Had  a  very 
pleasant  reception.  I  urged  them  to  deposit  the  ten  million  dol- 
lars they  are  to  receive  from  the  United  States  with  our  bank  and 
offered  them  four  per  cent  interest  on  all  sums  of  over  a  million 
placed  with  us  as  a  fixed  deposit  for  one  or  more  years.  They 
seemed  pleased  with  the  offer,  and  it  looks  as  if  I  may  get  it. 

December  12.  Having  learned  what  I  wanted  to  know  about 
my  business,  I  took  the  evening  train  for  Colon.  Colonel  Black,  of 
the  United  States  Engineers,  was  a  fellow  passenger,  and  strongly 
urged  me  to  establish  a  bank  on  the  Isthmus,  as  he  said  it  was  a 
necessity  without  which  our  Government  would  be  subjected  to 
grave  inconvenience. 

Had  pointed  out  to  me  an  interesting  tree  which  stands  near 
the  railroad  track.  The  trunk  of  it  is  white  and  of  huge  propor- 
tions. It  is  called  the  "Stephens"  tree,  because  that  was  the  name 
of  the  first  engineer  of  the  Panama  Railway,  and  the  poor  fellow 
died  under  it  of  the  fever. 

I  was  told  that  there  was  a  man  buried  alongside  of  the  line  for 
every  railroad  cross- tie  that  was  laid  —  cheerful ! 

At  4  p.m.  called  on  Admiral  John  G.  Walker,  U.S.N.,  who  lives 
at  the  house  of  Colonel  Shaler,  superintendent  of  the  railway. 
Met  Admiral  Coghlan  there.  Coghlan  says  he  will  give  any  one 
five  hundred  dollars  who  will  tell  him  where  a  single  one  of  those 
hundred  thousand  Colombian  soldiers  are  who,  it  is  said,  are 
marching  on  Colon. 

December  14.  Called  on  the  American  Consul  and  had  break- 
fast with  him,  after  which  he  took  me  for  a  drive.  We  went  to  see 
the  palace  built  by  De  Lesseps  in  hopes  that  he  would  have  the 
honor  of  entertaining  the  French  Empress  there  when  she  came 
for  the  opening  of  the  canal.  It  is  located  on  a  peninsula  and  is 
surrounded  by  magnificent  cocoanut  trees,  and  has  a  splendid 
view  of  the  sea.  In  front  of  the  palace  and  on  the  point  of  the 
peninsula  stands  a  heroic  bronze  statue  of  Columbus  on  a  pedes- 
tal. He  has  his  arm  protectingly  around  a  nude  Indian  maiden 
who  crouches  alongside  of  him.  The  young  female  savage  has 
the  pretty  face  of  a  French  grisette,  and  also  has  beautiful  wavy, 
almost  curly  tresses,  and  plump  fat  legs  that  would  not  be  out  of 
place  on  the  typical  Dutch  Frau.  Columbus  has  a  broad  grin  on 
his  face,  and  well  he  might,  for  who  ever  before  saw  an  Indian 
with  wavy  hair  and  fat  legs? 

In  the  afternoon  went  on  board  of  the  Mayflower  to  call  on 
Admiral  Coghlan,  and  Captain  Gleaves  who  commands  the  flag- 


482   Recollections  of  a  Rebel  Reefer 

ship.  The  Mayflower  is  coaling  at  the  dock  and  on  the  other  side 
of  the  pier  is  the  U.S.S.  Dixie  with  several  hundred  marines  on 
board.  The  jibbooms  of  the  ships  reach  almost  to  the  street  on 
the  water  front  of  the  town.  While  Admiral  Coghlan  and  I  were 
walking  on  the  deck  we  saw  some  half-dozen  little  Panama  police- 
men try  to  arrest  a  six-foot  American  marine  simply  to  show  their 
own  importance.  The  marine,  who  was  perfectly  sober,  did  not 
seem  to  be  disposed  to  submit  to  the  indignity,  and  the  police 
attempted  to  use  force.  The  big  marine  picked  one  of  the  little 
brown  men  up  and  used  him  as  a  club  knocking  down  several  of 
the  little  brown  fellows,  and  Heaven  alone  knows  what  damage 
he  would  have  done  had  it  not  been  for  the  timely  arrival  of  a 
corporal's  guard  from  the  Dixie,  who  took  him  in  tow. 

December  23.  Arrived  at  New  York  and  reported  at  once  to  the 
officials  of  the  bank.  A  meeting  of  the  board  of  directors  was 
called  and  I  made  my  report  to  them,  and  on  my  representation 
of  the  situation  it  was  decided  at  once  to  establish  several  branch 
banks  on  the  Isthmus,  which,  I  am  happy  to  say,  proved  great 
successes.  After  making  my  report  I  was  allowed  to  return  to 
Washington  and  spend  Christmas  with  my  family. 

And  now  I  have  finished  telling  the  tale  of  my  adventures, 
some  of  which  I  have  omitted  on  account  of  advancing  age 
and  failing  memory,  and  I  will  only  add  that  of  the  few 
honors  which  have  fallen  to  my  lot  the  one  I  am  most  proud 
of  is  my  Confederate  Cross  of  Honor,  which  was  pinned  on 
my  breast  by  Miss  Mary  Lee,  the  only  surviving  daughter 
(19 1 6)  of  the  great  Confederate  General. 


THE  END 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Aborigines,  Australian,  448-50. 

Adams,  Charles  Francis,  American 
Minister  to  England,  108,  III,  113, 
114. 

Alabama,  the,  126;  sinks  the  Hatteras, 
127;  sunk  by  the  Kearsarge,  187. 

Alar,  the,  an  active  tug,  1 13-15. 

Albatross,  a  captive,  152. 

Amador,  Dr.,  first  President  of  Pan- 
ama, 476,  479. 

Anderson,  Edward  M.,  127,  199; 
makes  a  pillow  of  Captain  Semmes, 
129. 

Andrews,  Eliza  Frances,  author  of 
"Wartime  Journal  of  a  Georgia 
Girl,"  241,  242. 

Arabi  Bey,  290,  291. 

Arthur,  President  Chester  A.,  423. 

Australia,  431-56;  wonderful  horse- 
manship, 435,  436;  animals,  445; 
rabbits,  447,  448;  aborigines,  448- 
50;  birds,  450-52. 

Baton  Rouge,  1,  2,  44;  looting  of 
J.  M.  M.'s  home  in,  90,  91. 

Bayard,  Thomas  F.,  and  J.  G.  Blaine, 
375-77;  Secretary  of  State,  424; 
in  a  temper,  427,  429;  consults 
J.  M.  M.  about  Melbourne  Fair, 

454.  455- 

Beaufort,  Confederate  gunboat,  86, 
87. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  denounces  the 
Alabama,  135. 

Benjamin,  Judah  P.,  Confederate 
Secretary  of  State,  38,  223,  235, 
236. 

"Bilged"  midshipmen,  29-32. 

Birds,  Australian,  450-52. 

"Blackbirders,"  442-44. 

Blaine,  James  G.,  373,  441;  excori- 
ates Senators  Bayard  and  Vance, 
375-77;  praised  by  J. M.M.,  426-28. 

Blake,  Captain  Homer,  of  the  U.S.S. 
Hatteras,  127. 


Blockade-runners,  Confederate,  100, 
101. 

Bouligny,  Hon.  Edouard,  offers  J. 
M.  M.  appointment  as  midshipman, 
13;  a  famous  duellist,  41. 

Bowen,  Sheriff,  351,  353;  concerned  in 
murder  of  Colonel  White,  353-59. 

Bowlegs,  Billy,  Indian  chief,  3. 

Bragg,  General  Braxton,  45,  48. 

Breckinridge,  General  John  C,  Con- 
federate   Secretary    of    War,    235, 

253- 

Bristed,  Charles  Astor,  ostracized  in 
Charleston,  260,  261. 

Buchanan,  President  James,  and  Mrs. 
Jefferson  Davis,  221. 

Burroughs,  Miss  Gabriella,  marries 
J.  M.  M.,  344. 

Burt,  Armisted,  befriends  President 
and  Mrs.  Davis,  235,  236. 

Butler,  General  B.  F.,  digs  the  Dutch 
Gap  Canal,  212,  213. 

Butler,  General  Matthew  C,  a  hand- 
some man,  362;  elected  U.S.  Sena- 
tor, 371;  conspiracy  against,  372, 
373;  admitted  to  Senate,  374;  let- 
ter from,  378;  and  Secretary  Bay- 
ard, 427. 

Callahan,  Professor  James  M.,  South- 
ern historian,  466,  467. 

Cameron,  Don,  374. 

Campbell,  Lieutenant  W.  P.  A.,  170, 
188;  runs  the  Lillian  into  Wilming- 
ton, I9I-95- 

Carpetbaggers,  the,  corruption  of, 
262,  317,  320,  328,  332,  339-42, 
348-51,  364. 

Carter,  Howell,  11,  45. 

Cary,  Clarence,  77,  315,  412. 

Cenas,  Lieutenant  Hilary,  215,  216. 

Chamberlain,    Governor    Daniel    H., 

351,  352,  355- 
Chapman,  Lieutenant  R.  T.,  49,  112, 
113,  188;  leaves  the  Georgia,  148. 


486 


Index 


Charloe,  a  celebrated  jockey,  6-10, 

45- 

Chester,  Rear  Admiral  Colby  M.,  26. 

Chicora,  Confederate  ironclad,  90. 

Chief  Joseph,  of  the  Nez  Perces  In- 
dians, 379-82; 

Chills  and  fever,  205. 

City  Point,  attempt  to  destroy,  218, 
219. 

Clark,  Rear  Admiral  Charles  E.,  25, 

Cleveland,  Grover,  Governor  of  New 
York,  422,  423;  President,  424, 
454;  appoints  J.  M.  M.  Consul  Gen- 
eral to  Australia,  424-28. 

Coghlan,  Rear  Admiral  Joseph  B., 
26,  476,  481. 

Confederate  Congress,  appropriates 
money  for  war,  39 ;  at  variance  with 
Mr.  Davis,  224,  225. 

Confederate  Navy,  183-86. 

Constitution,  frigate  ("Old  Iron- 
sides"), fitted  out  as  schoolship,  21 ; 
"the  Brood  of  the,"  23,  25,  20. 

Constitution,  the,  captured  by  the 
Georgia,  142-45. 

Cook,  Rear  Admiral  Francis  A.,  25. 

Cooper,  Captain  Richard,  105,  108. 

Cromwell,  William  Nelson,  474,  477, 
480. 

Crowninshield,  Rear  Admiral  A.  S., 
Chief  of  the  Bureau  of  Navigation, 
26. 

Davis,  Jefferson,  38,  220,  221 ;  removes 
General  Johnston,  224;  at  variance 
with  Confederate  Congress,  225; 
flees  from  Richmond,  235,  237,  238; 
writes  to  J.  M.  M.,  272;  memorial 
window  to,  463,  464;  statuette  of, 
presented  to  Confederate  Museum, 
464. 

Davis,  Mrs.  Jefferson,  her  social  gifts, 
221;  her  relations  with  Mrs.  John- 
ston, 221,  222;  leaves  Richmond, 
228;  has  difficult  journey,  228-36; 
changes  in,  463;  writes  in  regard  to 
Prince  Polignac,  466,  467. 

Dawson,  Captain  F.  W.,  77;  in  hospi- 
tal, 226,  227;  marries  sister  of  J.  M. 
M.,  227;  becomes  editor  of  the 
Charleston  News  and  Courier,  344; 
hated    by    negroes,    349;    accuses 


Sheriff  Bowen  of  murder,  353;  gets 
J.  M.  M.  an  office,  425,  426;  death 
of,  459,  460. 

Dewey,  Admiral  George,  74;  enter- 
tains J.  M.  M.'s  little  daughter,  468, 
469. 

Diaz,  General  Porfirio,  418,  419. 

Dimick,  Colonel  Justin,  commander 
at  Fortress  Monroe,  18,  19. 

Doldrums,  the,  124,  155. 

Dosse,  the  feast  of  the,  289,  290. 

Drayton  Hall,  263. 

Drewry's  Bluff,  80-82,  85,  204. 

Drum,  Adjutant  General  R.  C,  2, 
70,  371;  thrashes  J.  M.  M.,  16,  17. 

Dunmore,  Earl  of,  taken  prisoner  as 
"Mr.  Murray,"  104,  105. 

Egyptian  army,  274,  287. 

Ehrman,  Henry,  477,  478. 

Eliot,  Nancy,  331. 

Eugenie,  Empress,  guest  of  the  Khe- 
dive, 277,  281. 

Eunuchs,  274,  284,  285. 

Evans,  Lieutenant,  of  the  Georgia, 
118,  119,  161,  163;  succeeds  Cap- 
tain Maury,  169. 

Evans,  Rear  Admiral  Robley  D.,  25, 
383;  as  midshipman,  27,  28. 

Evening  Star,  loss  of  the  ship,  258. 

Farragut,  Admiral  David  G.,  17,  18; 
victory  of,  at  New  Orleans,  73;  de- 
mands surrender  of  the  city,  75. 

Field,  Cyrus  W.,  188,  189. 

Fincke,  Miss  Frances  A.,  marries 
J.  M.  M.,  428. 

Florida,  Confederate  cruiser,  seized  in 
Brazilian  harbor,  125. 

Forrest,  Commodore  French,  89. 

Fort  Fisher,  194. 

Fort  Harrison,  208-10. 

Foute,  Rev.  Mr.,  428,  429. 

Fox  terriers,  461,  462. 

Frigate  bird,  fight  with,  141. 

Fry,  Lieutenant  Joseph,  57. 

Galena,  the,  testing  of,  81,  82. 

Georgia,  the,  Confederate  cruiser, 
1 14-17;  captures  and  burns  the 
Dictator,  118,  119;  captures  the 
George  Griswold,  135;  captures  and 


Index 


487 


burns  the  Good  Hope,  136-39;  cap- 
tures and  burns  the  Constitution, 
142-45;  captures  and  releases  the 
City  of  Bath,  144;  captures  the  John 
Watt,  154;  captures  and  burns  the 
Bold  Hunter,  156;  has  narrow  es- 
cape from  destruction,  156-58;  en- 
counters French  bark  La  Patrie, 
160-62;  rescues  French  brig  Dili- 
gente,  162;  mutiny  on,  163,  164; 
ordered  out  of  commission,  180,  182; 
captured  by  the  Niagara,  183; 
wrecked,  183. 

Gillmore,  General  Quincy  A.,  suffers 
for  courtesy  shown  to  Mr.  Tren- 
holm,  251,  252. 

Gonzalez,  President,  418,  419. 

Good  Hope,  Cape  of,  146,  147,  150. 

Grant,  General  Ulysses  S.,  405. 

Gridley,  Captain  Charles  V.,  25. 

"Grigson,  Mr.,"  112. 

Gringo,  meaning  of  the  term,  395. 

Hamilton,  Duke  of,  307-09. 

Hampton,  General  Wade,  360,  361, 
364;  Governor  of  South  Carolina, 
370;  Senator,  376,  377. 

Hancock,  General  Winfield  Scott,  265, 
421. 

Harems,  283-86. 

Harrison,  President  Benjamin,  458. 

Harrison,  Colonel  Burton  N,  secre- 
tary to  Mr.  Davis,  229-32,  463. 

Heriat,  Mr.,  editor  of  the  New  Or- 
leans Bee,  41. 

Heth,  Major  General  Harry,  favorite 
of  General  Lee,  469. 

Hicky,  Colonel  Philip,  1 1 ;  hospitality 
of,  11,  12. 

Hollins,  Commodore  George  N.,  seizes 
the  Manassas,  55;  denounced,  58; 
reprimands  J.M.  M.,  66,  67;  at  New 
Orleans,  70,  71;  relieved  from  com- 
mand, 72,  73;  last  days  of,  74. 

Hollins,  George,  son  of  Commodore, 

91-93- 

Home  Guard,  the,  at  New  Orleans,  77. 

Hood,  General  John  B.,  succeeds 
General  Johnston,  224. 

Hope  Estate  Plantation,  sugar-mak- 
ing at,  12;  J.M.M.  tries  cotton 
planting  on,  259. 


Horsemanship,  Australian,  435-37. 
Hospitality,  Southern,  11,  12. 
Howell,  Jefferson  Davis,  220,  464. 
Huger,    Captain  Thomas  B.,  52,  54; 

wounded,  73. 
Hunt,    General   Henry    J.,    controls 

negro  mob,  350,  351. 
Hygera,  "the  strangler  tree,"  403. 

Indians,  in  Louisiana,  3. 

Ingraham,  Commodore  Duncan  N., 
89,  90. 

Island  Number  10,  fortified  by  Con- 
federates, 61;  bombarded,  62;  fall 
of,  69. 

Ismail  Pasha,  Khedive  of  Egypt, 
wants  American  officers  for  his  army, 
266;  J.  M.  M.  presented  to,  271;  an 
admirer  of  European  women,  275- 
77;  power  of,  281-83. 

Jackson,  "Stonewall,"  86,  144. 

Johnson,  Andrew,  36,  37. 

Johnston,  General  Joseph  E.,  224. 

Johnston,  Mrs.  Joseph  E.,  221. 

Jouett,  Rear  Admiral  James  E.,  469, 
470. 

Junket,  to  investigate  Nez  Perces  In- 
dians, 379. 

Kangaroo  hunting,  445-47. 

Katish,  old  black  nurse,  1,  5,  6,  7. 

Kearsarge,  U.S.  sloop-of-war,  sinks 
the  Alabama,  187. 

Kell,  Commander,  of  the  Alabama, 
187-90. 

Kennon,  Commander  Beverly,  207, 
208. 

King,  Mrs.  Henry,  conceals  Mr.  Tren- 
holm's  gold,  247-49;  marries  Con- 
gressman Bowen,  353. 

La  Noue,  Charles,  brother-in-law  of 

J.  M.  M.,  4,  5. 
Laughing  jackass,  the,  451. 
Learned,  Lyman,  395,  396. 
Leary,  Captain  Richard  P.,  26. 
Lee,  Miss  Mary,  482. 
Lee,    General    Robert    E.,    at    Fort 

Harrison,  210,  211,  217;  letter  of, 

273- 
Le  Mat,  Colonel,  94,  95. 


488 


Index 


Lillian,  southern  blockade-runner, 
190-96. 

Lincoln,  Abraham,  issues  amnesty 
proclamation,  242. 

Livingston,  the,  a  "wonderful  con- 
traption," 6l. 

Loch,  Sir  Henry, Governor  of  Victoria, 

433,  435,  437,  453- 

Lockwood,  General  Henry  H.,  32. 

Loring,  General  W.  W.,  in  the  Khe- 
dive's service,  277,  287,  290,  291, 
296;  J.  M.  M.  indignant  with,  298, 
299;  leads  expedition  against  Abys- 
sinians,  305,  306. 

Louisiana,  the,  72. 

Macallister,  Charles,  Jr.,  owner  of 
the  Scud,  264,  265. 

Macbeth,  Lieutenant,  helps  J.  M.  M. 
bury  Trenholm  silver,  240. 

Mallory,  Stephen  R.,  Confederate 
Secretary  of  the  Navy,  96,  228. 

Manassas,  the,  capture  of,  55;  rams 
the  Richmond,  56,  57. 

Marriage,  in  Egypt,  281,  282;  in 
Mexico,  396. 

Martin,  Daniel,  captain  of  the  Lillian, 
190-96. 

Maury,  Commodore  Matthew  Fon- 
taine, 96;  a  scientific  navigator,  100; 
deeply  religious,  101;  a  great  scien- 
tist, 102,  103,  107;  outwits  the  Brit- 
ish Government,  114. 

Maury,  Commander  William  L.,  112, 
113,  115;  commands  the  Georgia, 
116-69;  ill,  163;  relieved  of  com- 
mand, 169. 

Maximilian,  Emperor  of  Mexico,  399, 
400. 

Maynadier,  Captain  Henry,  35. 

McClellan,  General  George  B.,  264. 

McDow,  Dr.,  concerned  in  death  of 
F.  W.  Dawson,  459,  460. 

McHattan-Ripley,  Mrs.,  "From  Flag 
to  Flag  "  quoted,  90,  91. 

McRae, Confederate  sloop-of-war,  51- 
56;  made  flagship  of  Commodore 
Hollins,  60,  61;  at  New  Madrid,  62, 
63,  65,  66,  69;  in  battle  with  Farra- 
gut,  73;  sinks,  74. 

Melbourne,  432;  World's  Fair  at, 
454-56. 


Melton,  Judge,  332,  333;  controversy 
with  Colonel  Montgomery,  333-39. 

Merrimac,  the,  78. 

Metcalf,  Dr.  John  T.,  257,  258. 

Mirage,  at  night,  158,  159. 

"Monday,"  a  negro  preacher,  323-25. 

Moors,  adventure  with,  174-77. 

Morgan,  Colonel  A.  S.  M.,  cousin  of 
J.  M.  M.,  83. 

Morgan,  Bedford,  uncle  of  J.  M.  M.,  3. 

Morgan,  Colonel  George,  great-grand- 
father of  J.  M.  M.,  67;  J.  M.  M., 
reads  from  diary  of,  470,  471. 

Morgan,  Captain  George,  brother  of 
J.  M.  M.,  41,  51;  injured  at  battle 
of  Seven  Pines,  83;  death  of,  165. 

Morgan,  Gibbes,  brother  of  J.  M.  M., 
marries  Lydia  Carter,  1 1 ;  Lieuten- 
ant in  Confederate  Army,  41,  51; 
Captain,  84,  86,  87,  88;  death  of, 
165,  166. 

Morgan, H.  Gibbes,  cousin  of  J.M.M., 
256. 

Morgan,  Harry,  brother  of  J.  M.  M., 
41 ;  killed  in  duel  with  James  Sparks, 

42,  43- 
Morgan,  James  Morris,  birth,  1 ;  child- 
hood, 1-10;  fond  of  horses,  2,  8-10; 
witnesses  destruction  of  steamboat 
Princess,  3-5;  attends  school  when 
convenient,  8 ;  first  love,  1 1 ;  goes  to 
school  in  earnest,  14-16;  at  Fortress 
Monroe,  16-20;  goes  to  Annapolis, 
21;  learns  obedience,  22;  some  em- 
bryo heroes  among  his  fellow  mid- 
shipmen, 25,  26;  first  experience  on 
skates,  28,  29;  resigns  when  Fort 
Sumter  is  fired  on,  33;  dubbed 
"Little"  Morgan,  34;  meets  An- 
drew Johnson,  36,  37;  death  of  his 
brother  Harry,  41-43;  sent  on  im- 
portant mission  to  General  Bragg, 
45-48;  assigned  to  the  McRae,  52; 
mastheaded,  54;  death  of  his  father, 
59;  aide-de-camp  to  Commodore 
Hollins,  61 ;  sent  to  burn  New  Mad- 
rid, 67,  68;  in  the  river  fight  at  New 
Orleans,  71-74;  goes  to  Norfolk  and 
Richmond,  76-79;  ordered  to  the 
naval  battery  at  Drewry's  Bluff, 
80;  on  the  gunboat  Beaufort,  86-88; 
assigned  to  the  Chicora  at  Charles- 


Index 


489 


ton,  89,  90;  invited  to  stay  at  Mr. 
Trenholm's  house,  93. 

Ordered  to  report  to  Commodore 
M.  F.  Maury,  97;  runs  the  blockade 
out  of  Charleston  Harbor,  98;  in 
Bermuda  and  Halifax,  101-04; 
reaches  England,  106;  aboard  the 
Georgia,  114;  tries  unsuccessfully 
to  set  fire  to  a  prize,  119;  at  Bahia, 
125-32;  at  Trinidad,  140,  141; 
grows  rapidly,  145,  201;  in  Cape 
Town,  148-50;  "a  hero,"  151,  152; 
has  a  narrow  escape,  156-58;  quells 
a  mutiny,  163,  164;  in  Cherbourg, 
165-72 ;  death  of  his  brothers  George 
and  Gibbes,  165;  letter  to  his  moth- 
er, 166-69;  in  a  storm  off  Cape 
Trafalgar,  172;  off  the  coast  of 
Morocco,  173-79;  honored  in  Liver- 
pool, 181,  182;  joins  a  blockade- 
running  party,  188;  gets  into  Wil- 
mington on  the  Lillian,  190-95;  re- 
turns to  Charleston,  198;  engaged  j 
to  Miss  Trenholm,  202;  on  school- 
ship  Patrick  Henry,  204-11;  be- 
comes a  passed  midshipman,  212; 
at  Battery  Semmes,  212-19;  rela- 
tions with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jefferson 
Davis,  220-22;  reduced  to  a  Fal- 
staffian  costume,  223;  accompanies 
Mrs.  Davis  from  Richmond,  228- 
37;  in  Abbeville,  239-43;  accom- 
panies Mr.  Trenholm  when  arrested, 

245-51. 

Married,  255;  studies  law,  256, 
259;  death  of  his  wife,  257;  has  yel- 
low fever,  257,  258;  tries  cotton- 
planting,  259;  raises  potatoes,  262; 
captain  in  Egyptian  army,  266; 
presented  to  the  Khedive,  271;  on 
the  Khedive's  personal  staff,  274; 
obtains  Napoleon,  "the  bounding 
horse,"  277,  288,  289;  dangerous 
gallantry,  279-81;  sent  to  Rosetta, 
291;  adventure  with  lepers,  294; 
collects  back  pay,  297,  298;  has  a 
mortifying  experience,  298,  299;  re- 
lations with  Ratib  Pasha,  302-05; 
goes  to  France,  310;  shipwrecked, 
311;  spends  a  gloomy  week  in  Paris, 
312-14. 

Returns  to  America,  315;  experi- 


ences with  carpetbaggers  and  ig- 
norant negroes,  317-31;  wounded 
in  a  political  feud,  333-39;  swin- 
dled by  a  carpetbagger,  340,  341; 
outrageously  taxed,  342,  343;  mar- 
ries Miss  Gabriella  Burroughs,  344; 
sells  his  plantation,  346,  347;  aids 
Captain  Dawson  in  Bowen  trial, 
356-58;  in  the  political  campaign  of 
1&75,  360-69;  financially  ruined, 
371;  helps  Senator  Butler  thwart  a 
conspiracy,  372,  373;  accompanies 
junket  to  Chief  Joseph's  camp,  379- 
82;  goes  to  Mexico  with  Governor 
Shepherd,  383-94;  returns  home, 
395,  396;  goes  back  to  Mexico  with 
an  engineering  party,  398;  on  a  sur- 
veying expedition,  401-04;  investi- 
gates a  silver  mine,  405,  406;  hunts 
for  an  asphalt  lake,  408,  410-12; 
interests  New  Yorkers  in  it,  412, 
413;  witnesses  a  strange  festival, 
414,  415;  receives  a  proposal  of 
marriage,  416;  with  General  Stone 
at  Bedloe's  Island,  420-23. 

Consul-general  to  Australasia, 
423_58;  marries  Miss  Frances  A. 
Fincke,  428;  consular  duties,  438; 
an  experience  with  an  Australian 
court,  439-41 ;  connection  with 
Melbourne  World's  Fair,  454-56; 
birth  of  his  daughter  Frederica, 
459;  settles  on  a  Maryland  farm, 
459;  renews  close  relations  with  Mrs. 
Jefferson  Davis,  463;  moves  to 
Washington,  468;  goes  to  Panama, 
474-82. 

Morgan,  Dr.  John,  great-uncle  of 
J.  M.  M.,  267. 

Morgan,  Judge  Philip  Hicky,  brother 
of  J.  M.  M.,  14,  16,  46-49,  253,  256; 
placarded  as  traitor,  42 ;  Minister  to 
Mexico,  383,  398,  405. 

Morgan,  Sarah,  married  to  Captain  F. 
W.  Dawson,  227;  publishes  journal, 

344- 
Morgan,  Judge  Thomas  Gibbes,  father 

of  J.  M.  M.,  1;  letter  to  eldest  son, 

52;  death  of,  59;  destruction  of  his 

home,  90,  91. 
Moses,  Franklin  J.,  Governor  of  South 

Carolina,  317-20,  329. 


490 


Index 


Moses,  Judge,  uncle  of  the  Governor, 

332. 
Mott,   Major-General   Thaddeus   P., 

308,  309. 
Mules  in  Mexico,  385,  389. 

Nagle,  Dr.,  carpetbag  comptroller, 
328,  343,  346. 

Napoleon,  "the  bounding  horse,"  277- 
80,  288,  289,  293. 

"Nat,"  Mrs.  W.  L.  Trenholm's  but- 
ler, 240,  241. 

New  Madrid,  62,  63;  destruction  of, 
67,  68. 

Niagara,  U.S.  sloop-of-war,  130;  cap- 
tures the  Georgia,  183. 

Panama,  Republic  of,  474. 

Paris,  in  spring  of  1871,  312,  313. 

Parker,  Lieutenant  William  H.,  super- 
intendent of  the  Patrick  Henry,  205 ; 
protects  Confederate  treasure,  233; 
cares  for  Mrs.  Davis  and  family, 
234-36. 

Patrick  Henry,  Confederate  school- 
ship,  204-11;  menu  on,  205;  recita- 
tion rooms,  205 ;  served  as  a  receiv- 
ing ship,  206;  blown  up,  233. 

"  Peace-at-any-price,"  472,  473. 

Peccaries,  402,  403. 

Pipkin,  William,  "Bill  Pip,"  24,  25; 
rose  to  rank  of  colonel,  25. 

Polignac,  Prince,  claims  to  have  been 
sent  on  mission  by  President  Davis, 
465,  466. 

Pope,  General  John,  at  New  Madrid, 
63,  69,  70. 

Porter,  Rev.  A.  Toomer,  255. 

Princess,  the,  destruction  of,  3-5. 

Prioleau,  Mr.,  Liverpool  partner  of 
Mr.  Trenholm,  106,  109,  no,  170. 

Privateers,  184. 

Pulque,  Mexican,  19,  20. 

Rabbits,  ravages  of,  in  Australia,  447, 

448. 
Rappahannock,  Confederate  cruiser, 

169,  170. 
Ratib      Pasha,     Lieutenant-General, 

287,  288,  301-07. 
Read,  "Savez,"  61,  64,  69,  73,  218, 

219. 


Reconstruction  period  in  South  Caro- 
lina, 317-78. 

Religious  mania  in  school,  14-16. 

Rifle  clubs  in  South  Carolina,  350, 360, 
362,  374- 

Rodgers,    Rear  Admiral    C.   R.    P., 

23- 
Rodgers,  Captain  George  W.r  26-28, 

33- 
Rodgers,   Commander  John,   U.S.N. 

tests  the  Galena,  81,  82. 
Roosevelt,  Theodore,  477,  480. 

Samoans,  as  swimmers,  457,  458. 
Saurez,  Mr.,  a  generous  Jew,  311-14. 
"Scalawags,"  348. 
Scott,  Lieutenant  Robert  Wainwright, 

21,  24. 
Semmes,  Captain  Raphael,  126-31. 
Semmes  Battery,  212,  228. 
Seven  Pines,  battle  of,  83. 
Seventh- Day  Adventists,  429,  430. 
Sharks,  457,  480. 
Shepherd,    Governor   Alexander    R., 

mining    enterprise   of,   in   Mexico, 

383-94- 
Sherman,  General  W.  T.,  visits  Egypt, 

266. 
Sickles,  General  Daniel  E.,  257. 
Sigsbee,  Rear  Admiral  Charles  D  wight, 

26. 
Smith,  F.  Hopkinson,  quarrels  with 

General  C.  P.  Stone,  422. 
Soule,  Pierre,  controls  mob  at  New 

Orleans,  75,  76;  U.S.  Minister  to 

Spain,  223. 
Sparks,  James,  kills  Harry  Morgan  in 

duel,  43. 
Stage-coach  traveling  in  Mexico,  398, 

399- 

Stephens,  Hon.  Alexander  H.,  203. 

Stone,  General  Charles  P.,  269;  chief- 
of-staff  of  Khedive  of  Egypt,  287, 
290,  296,  302 ;  a  born  manipulator  of 
men,  299,  300;  erects  statue  of  Lib- 
erty on  Bedloe's  Island,  419,  420; 
has  trouble  with  F.  Hopkinson 
Smith,  422. 

Sugar-making,  12. 

Taylor,  Rear  Admiral  Henry  C,  25. 
Taylor,  General  Zachary,  2. 


Index 


491 


Teneriffe,  Peak  of,  159. 

Thackeray,  W.  M.,  anecdote  of, 
248. 

Thompson,  Hon.  Jacob,  Secretary  of 
the  Interior  in  Buchanan's  Cabinet, 
18,  19. 

Thompson,  General  Jeff,  "the  swamp 
fox  of  Missouri,"  62,  63. 

Thompson,  Sam,  negro  trial  justice, 
321,  326,  327. 

Tom  Benton,  the,  66. 

Trenholm,  Frank,  brother-in-law  of 
J.  M.  M.,  259,  260. 

Trenholm,  George  A.,  198;  and  An- 
drew Johnson,  37;  befriends  George 
Hollins,  92,  93;  helps  J.  M.  M. ,  93- 
97,  103,  106,  107,  no;  owned  many 
blockade  runners,  98,  200,  222;  Sec- 
retary of  Confederate  Treasury, 
199,  201,  202,  222,  223;  resigns,  225; 
buys  home  in  Columbia,  244;  ar- 
rested, 245-52;  pardoned,  255;  re- 
covers his  home,  257. 

Trenholm,  Mrs.  George  A.,  95,  203. 

Trenholm,  Miss  Helen,  94,  96,  200, 
202,  255. 

Trenholm,  Colonel  William  L.,  son  of 
George  A.,  96,  200,  201. 

Trinidad,  island^of,  140,  141. 

Tupper,  Captain  George,  in  shooting 


affray,  334-39;   elected   Mayor   of 
Summerville,  339. 

Upshur,  Admiral  John  H.,  24,  25,  30, 
3i. 

Vance,  Zebulon  B.,  375,  376. 
Vanilla,  412,  413. 

Volunteers,  Louisiana,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  Civil  War,  44. 

Wachusett,  U.S.S.,  disregards  Brazil- 
ian neutrality,  125. 

Wagner,  Theodore,  199,  244,  245. 

Wallace,  General  William  H.,  365-69. 

Warley,  Lieutenant  A.  F.,  91,  93. 

Waterspouts,  124. 

Wedding,  an  expensive  luxury  in 
Mexico,  396. 

Weil,  Mr.,  shelters  Mrs.  Jefferson 
Davis,  231. 

White,  Chief  Justice  Edward  D.,  256. 

White,  Colonel,  murder  of,  353-59. 

Wigfall,  Senator  Louis  T.,  35-37; 
enemy  of  Mr.  Davis,  235. 

Wild  horses,  chasing,  8-10. 

Wildes,  Rear  Admiral  Frank,  26. 

Worthington,  General,  carpetbagger, 
330. 

Wright,  Edward  Markoe,  3x5. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U    .    S    .   A 


